Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse
by Shadow Zee
Summary: Proof that a hard-ass has a heart. Daryl/OC. Season One of "TWD". Rated T for language and sensuality. First part of the "Necessary Nouns" story-verse.
1. Speed

Alright! This is my first _The Walking Dead_ fic and I'm pretty excited about it. The show is so brilliant! So here's how this thing is going to be set up: Most chapters will deal with a single episode each - although some episodes may not be used or based off and some chapters will be their own little thing, like this one - and occasionally, I'll put up these smaller chapters called "Meanwhile Moments" that were just sort of snippets of bonding or delving into further detail about something. Things like that. So without further blabbing, I present a fanfic that I hope you'll like!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _The Walking Dead_, although I totally wish I did! I also do not own Daryl Dixon, which saddens me deeply. But Marlie is mine, so no touchy, please.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter One: Speed

She walked stealthily along the tree line, just out of sight of the ten-point buck grazing in a green clearing. Her size eleven feet barely touched the ground as she walked silently on the tips of her black hiking boots, unconsciously sniffing the bark-scented air for any signs of rotting flesh. There was nothing but the leaves and dirt beneath her feet to smell.

Armed with only a twelve-inch Browning knife, which was a hefty blade meant for killing anything it touched, Marlie stalked around the antlered beast in hopes of picking the perfect angle to pop out and strike. She carefully brushed away a lock of thick brown curls from here eyes and blinked back beads of sweat.

When she was exactly where she wanted to be, Marlie drew her shining blade out from its black holster near her military-grade pocket belt that she took from an abandoned sporting store, silent in every movement.

The buck would not know what hit him.

Marlie had killed deer with her father when she was young - well, she was still considerably young at age twenty-six, but living during the apocalypse would grow anybody up. But the young woman didn't have a dad anymore and had to hunt based off what she had been taught years before. She'd already managed to kill two deer in the past two weeks with just her knife and wits. The end of the world seemed to have sparked the natural human instinct that dealt with hunting. Now she remembered what her dad had told her. The keys to success, he unoriginally called them.

Stay downwind. Watch your step. Eyes on the prize. Respect what you're hunting. Know your surroundings.

She mentally checked each item off the list, but when two arrows ripped through the air, seemingly out of nowhere, and hit her prey in the left hindquarter, Marlie burst into action.

Without glancing to the side where the colorful-feathered arrows had originated, the girl sheathed her blade and bounded hastily through the clearing and after the buck, running on her toes to quicken her pace. It was wounded and bleeding, but Marlie still found herself struggling to keep the animal in her sights. She wouldn't give up that easily, though. This deer was going to feed her for a month if she played her cards right.

Speed had always been a strong point, luckily for her, and it was working out for Marlie now. Her legs were strong and her lungs were stronger. Not only was Marlie keeping her breaths even, but she was also dodging trees and roots and bushes like it was her job. In a manner of speaking, it _was_ her job. Surviving had become her occupation after the virus outbreak that killed people and then brought them back as meat-eating monsters. So, technically, hunting and learning the skills to do so successfully was her job.

As she ran, an outreaching branch scraped across her cheek, leaving a lightly bleeding cut just below her eye. She barely felt it, what with the adrenaline poisoning her veins and all.

The deer maintained a distance of about fifty yards in front of Marlie, but before long, she began to gain on it, working her long legs to her advantage. It was only a matter of time before she either caught up with it or it made a fatal error.

The latter came first.

In an effort to evade the two-legged predator chasing it, the deer turned to the left on a dime, putting extra strain and weight on its bad leg. It cried out horrifically in pain, it's legs buckling beneath it.

Marlie caught up to the animal before it could attempt to rise again. There was just barely enough time for her to slow down. Without giving her lungs time to refill with oxygen or the deer the chance to kick her in her teeth, Marlie rolled over to the buck and in one fluid movement, her knife was unsheathed again and the deer was dead with a clean stab wound to his chest where the girl had pierced its heart.

She closed her eyes when it was over and sighed loudly, finally taking a moment to breath again and leaning her back against the animal in a few seconds of relaxation. Marlie didn't usually allow herself to do such a thing as be chill, but then again, she didn't normally go chasing down her prey like she just had. Her heart raced and pounded in her ears as she panted heavily. A smirk crossed her lips and she shook her head at the insane yet successful hunt that had just occurred. It gave her a thrill to know that she could kill an animal like that with just a blade.

Then she remembered the arrows. Her eyes flew open when she heard leaves rustling to her right.

A filthy man carrying about a dozen dead squirrels on a string stood several yards ahead of her, pointing his crossbow at her head. There was dirt smeared on his cheeks and forehead and grime beneath his fingernails. He didn't smell so great, which made Marlie wonder when the last time he'd cleaned himself was.

Still smirking, Marlie asked, "What? Do you really think a walker could run that fast or use a knife to kill what it's hunting?" She shook her head and fidgeted against the dead deer's warm back. Already, her camouflaged tank top was sticking to her sweaty body uncomfortably and her nose dripped with perspiration. The black cut off gloves that reached part way up her forearms heated her palms terribly, but she refused to remove them.

The man didn't budge for several moments, but then he slowly lowered his bow before tossing it over his shoulders casually. With his other hand fisted on his side, the dark-haired man said, "No, but then again, neither can most people."

Marlie shrugged, blinking against the sunlight flowing between the leafy canopies of the forest that revealed dust particles in the air. Her blue eyes sparkled as they filled with sunrays. "If they're hungry enough, they could." She turned her back to him then and proceeded to remove a handful of thick rope from one of the belt's many pockets.

"What are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes, not interested in conversation with this southern man. "Tying rope around this deer. What does it look like?"

The man scoffed. He obviously had a smartass on his hands.

"And if you must know, I'm going to drag it to the road where I parked my car." Damn her for giving in and telling this stranger more than needed. Her excuse: this was the first _living_ person she'd seen in a week or talked to in a month. She sort of savored any conversation she could get.

And he was attractive.

"And what then?"

Marlie stopped twisting rope around the animal's neck and turned to the man. "Then I'm going to take it to hop into my Dodge Challenger, drive to my cozy little shack just past the woods, cook this thing and then eat it." She quickly resumed her work.

"By yourself?"

She inhaled deeply. Was that a headache she felt coming on? This guy was unyielding; Marlie knew he was fucking with her purposely. Getting to her feet, she said, "Listen, guy - "

"That's not my name." He smiled sarcastically.

Marlie cocked her head and crossed her arms. "Then what is it?"

He kept grinning and said, "Daryl Dixon."

"Marlie Bryant. And yes, I'm doing it by myself. Do you see anyone else in these woods?"

Daryl looked around and shrugged. "I was just going to suggest a better plan."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" She gave in and decided to play his game.

"You don't sound very interested."

"Tell me."

"What do I get in return?"

Marlie smirked at the man and then glanced down at her kill. "A piece of my prize."

Daryl's eyes widened. "_Your_ prize?"

She nodded.

"Who put two arrows in him 'fore you even made a move? I been trackin' that thing for miles."

With a laugh, Marlie retorted, "At least my aim is better! You hit it in the leg. A lot of good that did you."

"If I hadn't wounded it, you wouldn't have been able to take it down. Simple as that."

Squinting her eyes slightly, Marlie realized this man was right. Granted, there was a chance she would have brought the beast down without his help, like she had done twice before, but the fact was that they had done it together. "I made the final blow, which means it's mine."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head at this woman's persistence. While he was sort of enjoying the banter, he was also getting pissed. What was it with this woman that played with his head so much?

"_But_," Marlie continued, "You did slow it down. Therefore, I'll share."

"Oh, thank you, gracious one," Daryl joked sarcastically.

"Whatever," she said impatiently. "Do you want some or not? And what was that other plan of yours?"

Daryl sighed. "There's a camp just a few miles that way." He pointed west where the sun would be setting in half a day.

Marlie looked with a hand thrown up to her forehead to block the rays from her denim blue eyes. She knew that a camp meant people, but people would slow her down. Yet, Daryl had said _camp_. Did that mean they weren't on the move? Walkers didn't wander very far into the forest, so if a little society was to be made, the woods were the best place to do it. Still, Marlie was used to moving and traveling and…well, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like she was looking for family - there was none left - and the few friends she once had were also dead. Or _un_dead.

So what was there for her, in the end? Nothing, really. Only surviving, but without any real reason to.

She sighed and looked down at her black-booted feet, which had collected a bit of mud during her deer chase. Marlie prepared to answer, but was caught completely off-guard when one of Daryl's arrow sped beside her right ear. The light breeze it produced tickled Marlie, but it frightened her more than anything. Tensing, she spun around just in time to see a walker topple backwards fifty yards away with the arrow stuck between his lifeless eyes. "Christ," Marlie whispered under her breath, watching as Daryl sauntered over to the dead _dead_ corpse and yanked free his arrow, shaking the excess blood off before reloading his weapon.

Marlie instinctually searched their surroundings for more walkers.

"Well?" asked Daryl impatiently when he returned to her. "What's it gonna be?"

The adrenaline was still seeping into her veins, but she was clear-headed enough to know what option she should chose about the camp. "Okay."

He blinked, a little surprised.

"I'll go to your camp."

Daryl nodded.

"As long as it won't be an inconvenience."

"Everything's an inconvenience these days." He laughed humorlessly.

Marlie nodded slightly and allowed Daryl to assist her in dragging the animal towards the west. Towards camp.

* * *

><p>Well? What did you think? Chapter One...complete!<p> 


	2. Meanwhile Moment 1

The first_ "_Meanwhile Moment"! Lets see how these things work out...

DISCLAIMER: _The Walking Dead_ IS NOT MINE! Daryl should be, but he's not. He's just not. Marlie, on the other hand, is of my own creation.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Meanwhile Moment One

A miniature flock of tiny sparrows took flight from a nearby maple tree, each bird chirping delicately. They caught the sunlight, feeling the heat warm the tiny down feathers found beneath their wings.

They momentarily distracted Marlie from her current job of dragging the buck corpse back to camp in the silent presence of Daryl beside her. "Are you always this talkative," Marlie muttered sarcastically, panting slightly under the strain of the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound stag. She was tall, thin, and tough, but even she grew tired sometimes.

"Yes," was Daryl's humorless reply.

"Hey!" cheered Marlie, using her shoulder to nudge back some curls that had escaped from their hair tie prison. "So you _do_ speak!"

"Ha-fuckin'-ha."

Marlie wasn't affected by his response. "Your humor's not so great, though."

"I ain't tryin' to be funny." He pulled the rope he was gripping further up his back in an attempt to make dragging the buck a little easier. It was futile.

Purposefully immature, Marlie wrinkled her nose mockingly at the muscular man and pulled a childish face.

"Listen, I ain't use to girls taggin' along during hunts, so why don't you - " He had planned on shushing Marlie, but was interrupted by her instead.

"_Girl?_ Oh, I can see we're going to get along great!" she joked, rolling her eyes.

"Then lets hope you don't stick around long."

"I won't be." The young woman had plans of eating a good meal tonight, sleeping well and in the morning, she'd be gone before sunrise. After all, she couldn't just abandon the black Dodge Challenger that she stole after the world fell to shit. That was her last best friend.

Daryl scoffed. "Haven't even said hello and you're already plannin' your goodbyes."

"Is that a problem?"

"Why would it be?" Daryl asked irritatingly.

Marlie looked away from him and back up to the sky. The birds were no longer in sight, could no longer distract her.

"Do you always go off on your own?"

"Always," she replied immediately. "People slow me down." Memories of a life before the outbreak flooded her brain, but she shoved them back behind heavy doors in her mind, locking them up tightly and throwing away the figurative key.

"Do I?"

Blinking, surprised by the question, Marlie answered honestly. "No."

"Good, 'cuz I ain't movin' any faster."

Marlie couldn't keep herself from letting out a pleasant laugh at his comment. Stubborn, she giggled in her head.

"You laughin' at me?" Darly asked angrily, obviously not the kind to take being made fun of lightly. He eyed the woman beside him.

Once her breath was back and the laughing had ceased, Marlie said, "No." There was a smile plastered on her face, though.

One that lit up her eyes and captured Daryl's attention. He quickly looked forward when he realized that he was staring. "Well it sure sounded like it."

"Wow," Marlie began, her smile fading. "I finally get you talking and everything you say is sassy."

"Then I'll shut up, princess!"

There was an uncomfortable silence spread between the two and made one angry towards the other. They sighed simultaneously, exasperated.

"Sorry," Marlie said eventually, her voice quiet and spiteful. She always hated apologizing, especially when it wasn't really her fault. But maybe she had a right to apologize this time. Daryl wasn't the only one with an attitude, she mused to herself.

When he didn't respond, Marlie continued. "It's actually…it's sorta nice when you talk. I mean, it's just that you're the first person I've really talked to in a month."

Daryl's brows wrinkled. "You never talked to other survivors?"

"There weren't any." Or at least, she'd never made it in time to save any of them. "You're the first."

He sighed again, suddenly not feeling so angry towards the incessant female beside him. "So, 'Marlie'. What kind a name is that?"

She snorted at the unexpected comment. "Excuse me? 'Marlie' happens to be a very cool name. 'Daryl', on the other hand…"

"Hey, now that's mean," he said with half-hearted annoyance. The mood around the two was already lightening and he could see it in Marlie's relaxed features.

"_What?_ You started this, so you must have known how it was gonna end."

Laughing slightly, much to his own surprise, Daryl shook his head. Damn, he couldn't recall the last time he'd smiled. And this woman had done more than that - she'd made him _laugh_. In a moment of truth, he asked seriously, "Do you really plan on leavin' so soon?"

Marlie shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know." When Daryl didn't say anything more, she asked, "Do you think I should stay?"

Daryl frowned. "Well it don't matter what I think."

"But I'm asking you. Should I stay?"

"I think you'd be helpful." He shrugged. "With hunting, maybe."

"Maybe? No, if I stay, I'll be hunting. No maybes."

"Whatever," Daryl remarked, his smile gone from his lips.

Smirking, Marlie added, "I could hunt with you. We'd make a good team. You fuck shit up; I go in for the kill."

"God, not this again." He looked up at the sky, silently praying to the gods to stop this woman from bringing up the deer subject again and how he hadn't managed to kill it.

Marlie laughed. "But seriously."

"I hunt alone."

"Oh." For some reason, Marlie found herself rather disappointed at that answer. She frowned.

"But I guess…I don't know. I wasn't expectin' no girl - "

Marlie glared at him.

"_Woman_ to come running out of the forest like Tarzan's wife or some shit, going after my buck. It's all a little confusing."

She nodded and pressed her lips together tightly, thinking for a moment. When the moment was over, Marlie said, "Well, you think about it."

"And you think about stayin'."

She nodded again and said, "Deal."

They paused their travelling and shook hands.

Marlie noted the strength and warmth coming from Daryl's and she made a mental note to make more deals with him in the future, if only to be able to hold his hand.


	3. Goodbyes

Here's chapter two! As always, I don't own _The Walking__ Dead_ or Daryl Dixon, although the latter would be nice.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Two: Goodbyes

"Merle!" shouted Daryl once the pair arrived at camp. "Merle, get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel! Lets stew 'em up!" He helped Marlie drag the buck to a nearby fire pit before dropping it.

Marlie was given no warning and grunted when the animal's weight became too much for her to drag alone. She released her rope and glared at Daryl behind his back before catching up to him. Marlie ambled alongside the dirtier man, keeping a few steps away from his smelly body.

Already, she could feel her cheeks burning with everyone's eyes drifting onto her, the deer, and then back to her. A fake smile flitted across her chapped lips, but vanished as quickly as it had come. There were strange new people all around her and she found herself feeling more comfortable when close to Daryl.

But at that moment, he wasn't interested in making friends with her and introducing the young woman to anyone. He wanted to know where his brother was. "Merle!"

A young man in a dark blue button-up shirt approached Daryl, throwing a friendly glance over the other man's shoulder, towards Marlie. "Who's this?"

"Her name's Marlie. Now where in the hell is ma brother?"

"Hi, Marlie," greeted the curly black-haired man, but his tone was distracted.

Darly completely ignored the salutations and asked again, "Where's Merle?"

The man, whose silver "22" necklace stuck to his sweating neck, turned away from Marlie then. "I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About Merle. There…was a problem in Atlanta."

Marlie's brows furrowed in a questioning glance. She had no idea what was going on, but it didn't sound positive. And it didn't help that everyone that Marlie could see wore frowns and tense postures. Luckily for her, though, everyone was too preoccupied by the conversation taking place to care much that a new woman was there.

"He dead?" Darly asked, wondering coolly.

Shane shook his head and put his hands onto his hips, wrinkling his shirt. "We don't know."

Another man, dressed in a baggy white tee, approached Darly from the sidelines, nodding a welcome towards Marlie first.

That was the first time Marlie had taken note of his presence. She lifted her hand partly in a half-ass wave.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," the man said, his southern drawl evident.

Daryl eyed the new man roughly. "Who are you?"

Marlie exhaled a little, feeling a little better knowing that she wasn't the only stranger in town.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," he mocked. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

The officer sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whatever he was about to say seemed to distress him. "Your brother…he was becoming too dangerous. I handcuffed him to the roof. Hooked him on some metal. He's still there."

A voice inside Marlie's head wondered how anyone could do such a thing. In a time of the apocalypse, wasn't it better to make friends and_ not_ handcuff said friends to rooftops? Granted, Marlie didn't have friends anymore and didn't plan on really making any; it would be dumb to make friendships since it would only hurt more when they were taken away. But hearing what this Rick Grimes was saying now disgusted her.

"You tied someone to a _roof?_" the camouflaged woman asked.

Rick Grimes shook his head at her sorrowfully. "I had to do it. He attacked T-Dog," he added, pointing to the large, bald black man who was standing off in the distance carrying an armful of chopped wood.

Daryl interjected. "So let me process this." He pointed at his own head and thought for a moment. "My brother is stuck somewhere in the city, on a goddamn roof?"

"Yeah," replied Rick quietly.

Marlie could feel the atmosphere around the two guys take a nose-dive towards hell and then Daryl made a move.

The squirrel-filled rope was chucked towards Rick, who dodged it fluidly, but before Marlie could even comprehend what was happening, Shane slammed into Daryl's side and pushed him down.

"Watch the knife," warned Shane cautiously as Daryl stood and began his assault on the blue-eyed Rick.

A short scuffle ensued, but ended quickly when Daryl was disarmed and taken into a chokehold by Shane.

"Best let me go!" growled the squirrel hunter raggedly.

Shane's grip didn't loosen. "Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

"Chokehold's illegal," Daryl snarled, hardly coherent as his breath was cut off.

"File a complaint," the man replied.

With fists at her side, Marlie strode into the circle of battle. "Let him go," she ordered.

All eyes fell onto her and again, her face grew hot. She really could do without the attention. She kept her gaze focused on Shane and Daryl, avoiding the group of people watching her from beside an ancient-looking RV.

When no effort was made to release Daryl, Marlie repeated the command, more sternly this time.

The dark-haired man gripping at Daryl's throat eyed Rick.

He nodded. "Let him go, Shane."

After several tense moments, Shane roughly released Daryl, sending the latter coughing painfully upon the dusty, Georgian ground.

Eyeing Shane with obvious dislike, Marlie sighed inwardly. It would have really sucked if the first person she'd met - and sort of liked - had been killed not by a walker, but by a living human. From the camp, no less!

"Who's she?" Shane asked, wiping sweat from his above his eyes.

"Marlie Bryant. Darly invited me to your camp."

"Nice to meet you, Marlie. I'm Rick Grimes and this is - "

"Shane," she finished. "I got that part."

Rick nodded, quickly noting the irritated tone in the new girl's voice. Then he kneeled down before Daryl. "Now, I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?"

The other man's lip twitched angrily, but finally responded, "Yeah."

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick told Daryl, who was panting heavily. "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault."

All attention went towards a hesitant-looking black man. T-Dog.

"I had the key and I dropped it."

"And you couldn't pick it up?" spat Daryl.

"Well, I dropped it down a drain."

Marlie's brow cocked a little. What shitty luck, she thought to herself, suddenly feeling sorry for Daryl who was on his knees, watching the ground pitifully.

He stood up and kicked the dirt with the toe of his left boot and quickly glanced over at Marlie before staring back at T-Dog. "If that's s'pose to make me feel better, it don't."

"Then maybe this will." T-Dog's voice was hopeful.

Daryl stopped.

"Look, I chained the roof door with a padlock, so the geeks couldn't get at him."

Geeks? Marlie wondered. She'd never called walkers by such a name, preferring to stick with "uglies". Taking a brave step toward Daryl, she said, "That has to count for something."

He just shook his head. "The hell with y'all," he exclaimed, pointing towards the men behind him and leaving Marlie out of it. "Just tell me where he is so I can go get him."

"He'll show you," told a thin brunette by the RV whose lengthy hair rustled slightly in the warm Georgian breeze. She glanced over at Rick. "Isn't that right?"

Rick nodded towards Daryl. "I'm going back."

TWDTWDTWDTWDT

Marlie spent the next hour figuring out where she'd be sleeping - sisters Andrea and Amy agreed that she could share their tent - getting greeted and thanked for the deer kill by various members of the camp and learning everyone's name. It was tough, especially since her memory had never really been the greatest, but she got the hang of their names quicker than expected.

"Does Daryl always like that?" she asked Carol, who was folding clothes with Marlie in the center of camp.

She smirked and nodded. "Yes. He's just like his brother."

"Merle."

Another nod. "They're both a little crazy, but I think their intentions are good. Usually. And I'm sure you've heard it a hundred times already, but thanks for the buck. Daryl hasn't brought back anything that big in a week."

Marlie snorted. "It's no wonder. His aim is shittier than a child's."

Carol giggled.

"So does he always dress like he's going to Hawaii?" the blue-eyed newcomer asked, pointing towards the man sitting on the RV's roof under an umbrella.

Ushering another laugh, Carol replied, "Yep, all the time. And the hat never leaves his head, either!"

Marlie cringed humorously. "Right."

"Andrea says you're originally from Michigan?"

"Born and raised in south Detroit." Marlie smirked at her own humor for using Journey lyrics.

"It explains the accent."

"Or lack there of." Although, Marlie imagined that she did have a northern drawl as opposed to all the southerners of the camp.

"I visited Michigan once. It's where Ed's parents are from."

Marlie nodded. She disliked Ed the moment she saw him; his vibes weren't pleasant in the least. "My dad was from Detroit. But after the divorce, I moved to Atlanta with my mom and younger brother."

"Oh, and how did you like it?The city, I mean."

"It was great until the outbreak."

The conversation became awkward after that. Marlie mentally kicked herself for being a buzz-kill and continued folding clothes, liking how her hands were always busy. It gave her less time to be bored and think too much. But she was thinking now, about Daryl. He was going into the dead-infested city in search of his brother. Oddly enough, the thought of something happening to Daryl made her nervous. Had she already grown attached to someone? She'd hate herself forever if she had, because it would only be a matter of time before something bad happened and then she'd regret it.

Carol sighed and patted the pile of clothes she had completed. "I wouldn't worry too much about him."

Marlie's head tilted slightly and looked over at the older woman.

She snorted shyly. "I can tell what you're thinking about."

For a moment, Marlie wondered if this lady was psychic. She couldn't believe that concern towards Daryl, of all people, had been that evident on her face.

"He might not be able to hit a deer, but give him a dozen walkers and they'll be down before they can even lay a hand on 'im."

Marlie smiled at the thought. Somehow, she was comforted. But her grin didn't last long.

Rick was making his way through camp wearing his police uniform and a determined expression.

A few moments later, Daryl emerged from his tent, making his way towards the center of camp near the RV and towards the truck that he'd be riding in with the others to the city.

Marlie quickly left Carol's side and hurried over to walk beside Daryl.

He cocked a brow at her. "Why you always followin' me?"

"I don't," retorted Marlie. "I'm just…I don't know…bidding you farewell."

He snorted.

"Seriously, I am."

"Well, don't be gettin' all emotional or nothin'."

Marlie frowned and glared at the man.

"Just sayin'."

"And I'm just saying that we have a deal, remember? You think about letting me hunt with you and - "

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl interjected, waving a hand at her. "And you think about stickin' around. I remember. Well, I'm still thinking about, so - "

"Think hard, because I might chose to stay, and if I do, you're taking me hunting. Which means you have to come back."

Daryl smirked down at her before grabbing her arm gently and positioning himself in front of her. Still smirking, he said, "Promise to not follow me all over the place when I get back."

Marlie waited for more of the sentence, but frowned when none came.

"You gotta promise me."

She sighed. "I promise. Jesus."

"Good. Then I - "

"Come on, Daryl," shouted Rick from beside the truck, having already said his goodbyes and I-love-you's to his wife and son.

Marlie's attention was momentarily focused on Glenn, T-Dog and Rick, who were all loading themselves into the vehicle, but her focus on them was eliminated when she felt Daryl's hand push her chin upwards. Her gaze lifted onto his.

"And I promise to take you along huntin'. _Sometimes_, not always. Understand?"

She was being treated like a kid, but thanks to Daryl's little smile, Marlie didn't mind.

"Better be here when I get back," he muttered, turning away from her and striding quickly towards the truck, crossbow at his side.

"Better come back." Marlie frowned when the truck pulled out of sight. Her heart felt heavy with emotions already. Fucking hell, she cursed to herself, realizing that she had just let a man flirt with her. And what was worse was the fact that she had done the same.

She didn't care that several camp members were eyeing her curiously. Cautiously. She ignored them, for once not minding that she was being watched. Her face didn't grow hot or irritated. Marlie was simply…sad.

"He'll be back," Carol reassured beside her. "Like I said, he's tough. Except around you." She smiled.

Marlie didn't look at her, but nodded weakly. That was all she need…someone getting feelings for her. Just as she didn't grow attached because of the obvious danger of losing those she attached to, the same applied the other way around. She could just as easily be forcefully removed from another's life, from the living in general. It made her sick inside.

* * *

><p>Another chapter finished! Woop woop! Comments, anyone? Please?<p> 


	4. Senses

I have enjoyed reading each one of your comments and I greatly appreciate them all! Leyshia Gisel, I want Marlie to be tall, like 5'8" tall, so big feet is a must. It also helps in making her a little less conventional than most characters. :) I'm jealous of Marlie, to be honest. Size 11 is a dream compared to my size 13!

And onward to another chapter! Also, I DO NOT own _The Walking Dead_ or any of its characters. No copyright intended.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Three: Senses

The sulfur shelf mushrooms were an unusual shade of orange that reminded Marlie of a time when she was younger when her older brother, Jack, had spilled orange paint all over himself.

As most older siblings did, Jack had blamed the mess on Marlie, who was too shy and passive to object and prove otherwise.

She had since gotten better at speaking her mind when necessary, although up until a day ago, there had been no one to speak to at all. Everything was suddenly so different. The world went from quiet and dead to busy and crowded. It wasn't that the camp was too full, but Marlie simply wasn't use to so many people in one area. And they were alive, no less, which was a good thing, of course, but it was going to take some time to get use to.

_ "Better be here when I get back,"_ Daryl had warned the slender woman before departing with Rick, Glenn and T-Dog toward Atlanta in hopes of retrieving Daryl's brother.

Now Marlie felt obligated to obey. She still wasn't sure about sticking around forever, but she'd at least wait for Daryl to return. God, she couldn't believe how she was feeling towards that man. He had a rugged appeal to him that drew Marlie in like a moth to a flame and she cursed every second that she was in his presence because closeness only resulted in more pain in the end. And yet, Marlie felt wrong to be away from him now. Being stuck at the camp with a bunch of overly-curious hicks who were always asking questions like, "Where ya from?", "You plan on stayin' long?", "How'd you get such big feet?", "What was life like before the world became an undead hell?" was mini hell for her. Every question put Marlie that much closer to snapping. Sometimes, she missed being on her own. At least then she didn't have to try and come up with vague answers to sate their curiosity and keep them from knowing too much.

The last thing Marlie felt like doing was delving into her personal life. Where was she from? "Atlanta, the city that now belonged to the dead." It was more than that, though. The divorce between her parents sent her there with the only sane parent: her mother. She couldn't afford her own place, even at age twenty-six, so she lived in her mom's house, helping with rent for the cozy two-bedroom condo. Meanwhile, Marlie's twenty-seven-year-old sarcastic brother—Jack—lived just down the street in his own little man cave of an apartment, visiting Marlie and their mother regularly.

Did she plan on staying long? "I'm not sure yet, to be honest." No, she really didn't plan on it, but ever since she bid Daryl goodbye when he left to go find his brother, Marlie had begun to second-guess her initial decision to not stick around. She hadn't planned on meeting the rough and rugged hunter in the forest the day before. She hadn't planned on him flirting and her flirting back. And she most certainly hadn't planned on hanging around the camp for more than a day. Marlie just wanted to go back to her Challenger that was parked down a gravel road several miles out from the camp and head back to the old cabin far beyond the city that she had been resting in for the past several days. Then she'd move on again until she found something worth sticking around for or until she became one of the walking dead. But Marlie _had_ found something worth her time and attention, although it was more of a _someone_.

Where did her big feet come from? "My five-foot-ten mother." No further explanation required.

As for what her life was like before the outbreak, Marlie had lived a comfortable life close to her family, aside from her father who had become an alcoholic over the years. She had friends, a writing job at an important Atlanta newspaper company, a cat, no boyfriend, but she was too busy for one anyway. But she would have been lying if she told someone that her existence was a happy one. The fact was, Marlie was depressed and lonely more often than not.

And the few smiles that existed, the little bit of cheer she spread, the "morning, Mom"'s and "hey Jack-Jack"'s were eliminated from her life in a flash.

But she thanked the gods that she was regularly kept busy, to keep her mind from wandering and widening the hole in her heart. Whether it was helping quiet Carol clean the laundry or gutting fish with sisters Andrea and Amy, Marlie always had something to do. And right now, Hawaiian-shirt Dale had given her the task of scrounging up whatever mushrooms she could find.

"How do I know which ones are poisonous?" she asked Lori.

"Well there's only one way I know for sure."

Marlie frowned. "Great." But once she set eyes on the sunset-orange mushrooms jutting horizontally from a half-dead tree just beyond the camp, Marlie knew from experience with her dad that they were edible, and quite delicious, if she remembered correctly.

So she yanked handfuls free from the tree trunk and dropped them into the yellow pale she had been given for collection. The shrooms smelled fresh and wild and tickled Marlie's sense, causing her stomach to rumble angrily. "No," she objected, glaring at her bellybutton. "Don't start. You wait until dinner."

"Uh," began a man's voice from behind the young woman.

She spun around with a start and sighed when it was just Morales. "Hi."

He cast a half-smile in her direction. "So, uh, who were you…talking to?"

Marlie's eyes widened a little. She'd been bossing around her tummy and had been caught in the act. Wow. She could only imagine how sane she _didn't_ look just then. She laughed nervously. "My stomach. It was growling."

Morales nodded his head slowly. "Gotchya."

Damn her foolishness. This was just another reason why she enjoyed traveling alone; there weren't people around to judge you when you started talking to your organs.

"Well, Dale just sent me out here to check on you. He doesn't like people wandering off on their own."

She nodded, understanding. "Yeah, sorry about that. I think I've got enough shrooms to last everyone a lifetime anyway." Marlie extended her bucket to the man before her, revealing to him the extent of her mushroom collection.

"Damn," he said, smiling contently. "That's…a lot of mushrooms. How do you know they aren't poisonous?"

"My dad taught me a few things when I was younger. But there's only one way to know for sure," she joked.

Morales nodded again and allowed Marlie to shyly pass him to head back to camp. He followed closely, protectively, until they were both in view of Dale up on his RV.

The man, however, seemed to have his attention focused elsewhere.

Marlie handed the bucket of shrooms over to Lori before following Dale's gaze.

"Wow, that's a lot of mushrooms," Lori said with a surprised tone.

Morales agreed before heading off elsewhere.

"I didn't think there was this many in the entire forest. You know, we could probably save some of these for tomorrow."

Marlie glanced at her with a questioning stare.

"Tomorrow is Amy's birthday."

"Oh. I'm sure there's enough. I don't mind getting more if there isn't." She then turned towards a high hill about a half-mile away from camp. "What's he doing up there?" Marlie asked, completely forgetting about Lori's mushroom comments.

Lori glanced at Dale and then towards the hills to which he was staring at. "That looks like Jim."

Marlie looked around the camp in search of the tall, bearded man who she had learned was named Jim, but her search came up empty. She turned back to the sunlit hillside. "Why is he digging?"

"I haven't the slightest clue," Lori replied. "Dale!" she called out, hurrying off towards the RV with Marlie on her heels. "Dale, is that Jim?"

The older man lowered the binoculars that were glued to his brown eyes and said to the women, "It sure is. I'm going to go check on him."

Marlie's brows were furrowed as Dale climbed down the RV and headed off in Jim's direction.

"I wonder what that's all about."

Shaking her head, Marlie couldn't come up with an answer for Lori. Quietly, she muttered, "I'm going to go clean these up."

Lori just nodded.

It was odd that someone was up on a hill, digging. Was there something that had to be buried? Marlie wondered. Maybe the camp had a garden or had plans of making one and Jim was just turning the soil. She shook her head at the idea. The camp couldn't stay there forever, let alone long enough to grow anything. Everyone had seemed relatively alarmed after Marlie had mentioned the walker that she and Daryl had come across while hunting the day before. It wouldn't be too much longer until the dead found the little camp.

Therefore, a garden was out of the question. So what was Jim doing? Marlie spent the next fifteen minutes boiling the mushrooms over a small fire and throwing ideas around in her head. But her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted Dale making his way back into camp.

He wore a worried expression. "I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think we have a problem." Once all eyes were on him, he looked over his shoulder towards Jim, who was still digging.

Marlie frowned, but stayed put when the group followed Dale up the hill. She continued boiling shrooms, watching the campers disappear through the trees. A stick from a ways away suddenly snapped behind her, causing her muscles to tense and her eyes to widen. She spun around and unsheathed her knife, posed to strike. There was nothing to be seen, but Marlie failed to relax. Turning her nose upwards, she stood up and inhaled deeply. Trees, earth, mushrooms, and fish from Amy and Andrea's catch. Nothing more. Daryl crept into her mind in that instant and worry suddenly filled Marlie's heart. "You better come back," she mumbled under her breath, catching sight of the group already returning and putting her blade away.

Shane had Jim's hands restrained behind his back. He sat the heat-stroked man down against a tree, where he proceeded to restrain him further.

"What happened?" Marlie asked Dale.

"He was burning alive up on that hill, digging holes and ranting about how it had something to do with a dream he had last night."

Marlie looked on with curiosity tainting her ocean eyes. A short time later, she found herself standing next to Dale, the two of them looking down into one of the many dug-out holes in the dry Georgian dirt. It was disturbing, to say the least. "They're graves," she muttered beneath her breath.

Dale stared down into the ground, realizing that Marlie was right.

TWDTWDTWD

"Put these three fingers like this and put your thumb right here." Marlie knelt beside young Carl, gripping the handle of her long knife with her index, middle and ring fingers down one side and her thumb on the other. "When you throw, just flick your wrist and let go." She aimed at the ground a few feet away from her and threw. The blade punctured the center of a hand-drawn circle in the dirt. Bull's eye.

"Cool!" exclaimed Carl. "Mom, did you see that?" the boy asked Lori behind him, who watched on with a smile.

She nodded kindly, sending her smile towards Marlie in silent thanks. Lori had been nice enough to allow Marlie to teach her son the basics of knife-throwing, which was a good way to distract the two women from the incident with Jim. It was also a good skill to have and it wasn't hurting anybody.

"Okay, now you try it." Marlie adjusted the boy's finger positions along the handle until it looked proper enough. "Remember, flick your wrist and then just open your hand."

Carl's face became full of determination, completely ignoring the setting sunlight in his eyes. Tiny beads of sweat dribbled down his brow from the ninety-degree heat, but that didn't faze him, either. With a fluid hand motion, the blade struck the earth, landing blade-down into the ground.

Marlie laughed, surprised at the Carl's accuracy. Granted, the knife was barely in the wide circle she had drawn for him with a stick, but it was close enough to make Marlie proud.

"Good job, kiddo," congratulated Shane who appeared beside Marlie.

She didn't give him the light of day and didn't plan on doing so for a while, not after his little chokehold stunt against Daryl the day before. Shane had wound up on Marlie's shit list after that and that was a place no one wanted to be.

He could see by the look in the woman's eyes that he wasn't quite yet forgiven about attacking Daryl, even if the hunter had been the one who started it. Still, out of courtesy, Shane kept his distance with Marlie and didn't bother speaking to her. It would be futile to try against the stubborn woman who reminded him of Daryl himself sometimes. So he simply nodded at her before ruffling Carl's hair.

Marlie was quick to note the unhappy expression on Lori's face at that moment. "Good throw, Carl," she said in an attempt to keep Carl's attention from his now angry mother. "Wanna try again?" She didn't even like kids, but Carl was a trooper. It made sense, though, since the kid had gone through hell and back with the whole zombie apocalypse.

The boy beamed. "Yes, please!"

"Well, lets hold off, Marlie. Dinner's ready," announced Dale near the firepit, waving the rest of the group over to eat.

She nodded and retrieved her knife before joining everyone in a mushroom-and-fish feast.

Stories around the fire were being told, memories were being shared, happiness was being spread through the weary souls of the camp. Everyone had their minds on the mission taking place in Atlanta and everyone had worry weighing down their hearts.

But Dale was doing a pretty good job of keeping the people sidetracked with his quirky tales and silly jokes.

Marlie joined in the laughter occasionally, but didn't say anything. She sat back and nibbled her food, glad that her stomach had finally quieted down.

Beyond the group, a breeze shuffled the trees and tents and played with Marlie's hair, tickling her scalp.

"Be right back," Amy chirped, standing up.

"Where ya goin'?" her blonde-haired sister asked.

"I have to pee, if you must know."

The campers giggled and Amy smirked. "Sorry," she apologized sarcastically, ushering more chuckles.

It took Marlie only a short time to finish her meal and an even shorter time to notice the silence from the world beyond the campers. There were no sparrows singing their late afternoon choruses. No raccoons chattering beyond the tree line. Nothing. The only sound was Ed—who had laid hands on Carol down by the water earlier that day and was beaten half to death by Shane—coughing in his tent just beyond the fire's glow and a soft breeze rustling the leaves above.

Something was wrong. Marlie could feel it in the back of her mind like a sliver that is felt in the finger before it's actually seen. Then the wind changed direction and her nose caught the scent of a dead thing. Rotting flesh and death.

She was on her feet in an instant, eyes wide and knife already unsheathed and in her hand.

"Marlie?" questioned Dale slowly.

"Something smells dead."

"We're eating fish," assured Shane.

She shook her head at him. "It smells like—"

"Seriously? No toilet paper?" Amy's voice sounded from the RV, quickly followed by her screams.

"Amy!" cried Andrea, horrified that a walker had clamped down on her sister's arm and was tearing the flesh from her bones before moving on to the young woman's neck.

Marlie gasped, but gathered enough sense to unleash her blade at the ugly creature. It hit the walker in the back of the head and it toppled backwards, dead for a final time.

Her brain switched into overdrive at that moment and Marlie took in all of her surroundings. The world slowed down around her and she could see the gruesome scene taking place all over camp.

The men were grabbing guns. The women were protecting the children. Everyone was screaming and panicking and avoiding the undead at all costs. Andrea was trying to stop her sister's bleeding. Jim, who had been released earlier, used a club against one of the creature's heads.

Walkers were moaning and eating and charging any living thing their lifeless eyes saw. Including Marlie.

She hurried towards the RV and yanked free her blade from the dead walker's skull, just in time to throw it again before another walker could attack her. She snatched the knife before the undead crumbled to her feet. It was thrown for a third time a moment later, saving Morales from a bite to the neck.

Her heart was racing and blood was pounding so loudly in her ears. There was over a dozen uglies in the camp and there were too few guns. She could see shadows in the tents of people trying to shuffle out, but weren't quick enough. The dead were everywhere.

A moaning from behind caught Marlie off-guard and sent her spinning around just in time for a walker to grab hold of her arm. She yelped and reached for her sheath, only to find it empty. She suddenly remembered that her blade was stuck in another walker's brain several yards away.

Marlie snatched the decaying monster's other wrist in her free hand, keeping it from scratching her face, but the walker was strong and determined. A bad combination. She struggled against its grip on her arm and shouted out for help, but everyone with a weapon was currently preoccupied. Remembering some combat tips that her father had taught her years ago, Marlie hooked the back of her left foot around the walker's right ankle and jerked it, tripping the undead thing and toppling over with it. She had hoped that the fall would have loosened its grip on her right arm, but it didn't. Instead, it only seemed to enrage it further.

Shit shit shit shit, she repeated in her head, using every ounce of strength in her body to keep the walker's teeth and fingernails from piercing her skin. It was a battle that she was ashamed to admit she was losing.

* * *

><p>Cliffhanger...dundundun! But fear not; I'll be updating soon to sate your hunger for more. Comments are always welcome and again, thanks to those who have already commented!<p> 


	5. Hope

Here y'all be! Sorry about the last chapter's cliffhanger; I couldn't help myself. Thank you all so so so so much for the comments, favorites, etc! It's so appreciated and awesome and if I could, then I'd give you each a cookie since the dark side has so many. :) Anyway, chapter four has arrived. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _The Walking Dead_. It's a sad, but true story. Don't remind me.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Four: Hope

_ Shit shit shit shit, she repeated in her head, using every ounce of strength in her body to keep the walker's teeth and fingernails from piercing her skin. It was a battle that she was ashamed to admit she was losing. _

Without warning, a bow ripped through the ugly's skull, poking out the other side. It flopped over, dead.

Marlie immediately recognized the bright yellow and red feathers at the end of the bow and rolled her head to see a familiar face hurrying over her. She took his extended hand and was hoisted up.

"Are ya bit?"

She blinked, shocked that she was nearly killed by a walker and stunned that Daryl was standing before her.

"Are ya bit?" he repeated, louder and less patiently.

Marlie looked down at her arms and gloved hands and gave herself a pat-down. Then her head shook and she licked her lips, saying, "No, no. I'm fine. The walkers…they came out of the woods. We had no warning."

Rick, Glenn and T-Dog appeared from behind Daryl, guns blazing as they exterminated the remaining undead.

Reloading his crossbow, Daryl fired the last shot at a straggling walker, who dropped a second later with a bow through its left eye.

Once the camp finally settled into a deathly quiet silence, Jim looked towards Dale, who was comforting a tearful Andrea. "I remember my dream now, why I dug the holes."

TWDTWDTWD

The next morning drug on slowly. Everyone was tired and scared and mournful over those who had died during last night's attack.

Even Marlie was feeling the pain of loss. She hadn't known any of the campers particularly well, but she had opened her heart a little to each of them. It had been a mistake, she realized. Now sadness dampened her mind. She hadn't planned for that.

But Daryl was back, which kept her spirits somewhat higher than they were before. He had saved her life, possibly for a second time if she counted the walker incident back in the woods two days ago. Marlie had promised him that she'd keep the following to a minimum, but she wanted to be at his side more than ever.

She had a job to do, however. Gripping her blood-stained knife tightly in her hand, Marlie brought it down forcefully on an ugly's head, straight between the eyes. The sickening crack that followed jarred Marlie's bones and she cringed.

Most of the men of the camp were doing the same - dragging pick axes around and smashing them into the heads of the undead to keep them from rising again. Then the mangled bodies were thrown into the rising campfire to burn away into dust and ash.

Andrea, who hadn't left her sister's side all night, was sitting calmly over the lifeless young woman.

It was Amy's birthday today.

Marlie watched on sadly as Rick tried to removed her, to take care of Amy's body before she turned, but had a gun pointed at him instead.

"The dead girl's a time bomb," Darly announced beside Marlie.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "What do you suggest?" she asked with melancholy.

"I could take the shot. Clean in the brain from here." He gripped his crossbow in preparation. "Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"Jesus," Marlie sighed. "Let her be."

Daryl perked a brown brow at her. "If we don't somethin'—"

"Andrea should be the one to do it. It's her sister."

He shook his head. "And if she don't?"

"Then do whatever you want. Now help me with him." She reached down and grabbed the feet of a chewed-up camp member and waited as Daryl scooped up the other end. She recognized the dark-haired man, although Marlie hadn't known him very well. Even now, his name evaded her memory.

They made their way to the large, hungry fire and prepared to toss the corpse in, but Glenn interrupted their progress.

"What are you doing?" he asked, agitated. His black hair was greasy beneath his baseball cap and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, a characteristic of everyone that morning.

Daryl was taken aback slightly.

"This is for the geeks," Glenn elaborated, pointing to the fire. Then his finger switched directions and indicated a row of dead group members several yards away. "Our people go over there."

"What's the difference?" Daryl grumbled unhappily. "They're all infected."

But Marlie understood and she sighed at Daryl's lack of caring.

Glenn shook his head, tears springing to his dark eyes. "Our people go in that row over there." He sniffled. "We don't burn them! We bury them." Rubbing his nose, he added, "Understand?"

"You reap what you sow."

"Daryl, stop it," growled Marlie, growing tired of holding up half the body of the dead guy in her hands. She wasn't in the mood for Daryl's foulness.

Glenn wasn't having any of it, either. "Shut up, man."

"Y'all left my brother for dead. You had this coming."

"Stop it!"

Daryl was, for a second time, taken aback. He looked over at Marlie with a slightly confused expression, but otherwise kept his mouth shut. He exhaled noisily and helped the woman place the body alongside the other dead members laying in a row beside one of the trucks. Rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to clean them of their filth, he glanced at a frowning Marlie. "So what are ya gonna do?"

"Hm?"

"Are you goin' or stayin'?"

She shrugged. Did she really have to answer just then? There was a lot on her mind at that moment, what with all the dead people to clean up and zombies to burn.

Daryl scoffed. "Well ya better figure it out; I gotta feelin' we ain't stickin' around much longer." He nodded towards Dale, who was packing things in the RV along with a couple of others, including the Hispanic couple and their children.

It was obvious the group was moving on, but where to, Marlie wasn't entirely sure. Her thoughts were cut short when a gunshot rang out.

Daryl's crossbow was up in an instant, but lowered it upon seeing Andrea standing over her now dead _dead _sister. His head lowered slightly, frowning.

A tear unintentionally crept into one of Marlie's eyes as she remembered her brother, Jack. But again, her mind was sidetracked when Jaqui spoke out loudly behind her.

"Are you bleeding?" she asked Jim who had been assisting her with one of the many bodies strewn across the campsite.

Marlie and Daryl glanced over at her to see what she was talking about.

He looked down at his dark shirt, which had a small red spot on the lower left side. "I just got some on me from the bodies."

Jaqui shook her head, rising from her kneeled position beside a body. "That blood is fresh. Were you bit?"

"No," Jim replied, his voice wavering. "I got scratched during the attack."

"You got bit."

"I'm fine."

"Then show me."

The scene playing out had Marlie's full attention and she observed the conversing pair from afar with caution.

Jim lifted his shirt to reveal a circular, yellowing bite mark to his abdomen.

Marlie couldn't contain a gasp.

"A walker got him," announced Jaqui worriedly, pointing.

In a flash, Daryl had his crossbow at the ready and aimed directly at Jim.

"I'm okay. I'm okay." Jim was calm and collected as he looked on at the others.

"Grab him!" warned Daryl, glad when Shane restrained the bitten man, who simply kept repeating,

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

It was obvious, however, that he was _not_ okay. He was infected now and everyone knew that.

TWDTWDTWD

Outside the RV where a fevered Jim was resting, Marlie, Lori, Shane, Rick, Dale, and Daryl were all gathered.

Daryl was the first to speak. "I say we take a pick axe to his head and the dead girl's and be done with it."

Marlie put a dirtied, cutoff-gloved hand to her face and ran her fingers through her thick curls. "Is that what you'd do if it were you?" she asked exasperated.

He nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

Dale chose that time to speak up. He sighed before saying, "I hate to say it - I never thought I would - but maybe Daryl's right."

"Damn right!" Daryl exclaimed in a harsh whisper, only to have Marlie grab his arm in an attempt to settle him down. He didn't shrug her off, but instead, simply ignored her.

Rick waved the hunter off. "Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog."

Shaking his head, Dale said quietly, "He's sick. He's a sick man."

"We start down that road, where do we draw the line?" asked the deputy.

"The line's pretty clear," announced Daryl bitterly. "Zero tolerance for walkers…or them to be."

Rick didn't miss a beat, as though he'd wanted to say this for a while. "What if we can get him help?"

All eyes fell on him, including Marlie's conflicted gaze. She was glad that no one had looked to her for any incite, because she really didn't want to have to make any kind of decision about Jim's life. Granted, she sort of liked Jim, even though he was a little strange. But Marlie didn't really consider herself to be an actual part of the group and thus, had no real say in anything, which was fine by her. She was an outsider. An outcast with a crush on a hunter with a crossbow.

"I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"I heard that, too," added Lori quietly.

Shane, whose face was covered in sweat and dirt from cleaning up bodies, said, "How do you know if it's up and running?"

"We don't," said Rick.

"That's a hell of a stretch," warned Shane unhappily. "A hell of a risk."

"Why?" the other officer asked.

Shane shook his head and put one hand on his hip, using the other to fidget around as he spoke. "If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect it at all costs, wouldn't they?" He looked around for anyone else who agreed.

Everyone was stagnant and still, however.

Rick sighed. "I think it's our best shot."

"You'd risk everything for something that may not even be there?"

Nodding and looking over at his wife, Rick said without a doubt in his tone, "Yes."

Shane blinked, but otherwise remained quiet.

Clearing his throat, Rick continued. "Now if they exist, they're at the army base."

"Fort Benning. That's a hundred miles in the opposite direction." Shane was shaking his head, making his opinion on the subject quite clear.

"That's right," confirmed Rick, ushering a surprised expression from Marlie.

She didn't realize how adamant this deputy really was towards going to CDC until just then. A hundred miles? That would be one hell of a trip, she mused. Not even _she_ had traveled so far since the outbreak.

"But it's away from the hot zone," Lori said, her southern drawl noticeable.

Rick nodded. "And if it's operational, it'll be heavily armed."

"We'd be safe there," agreed Dale.

Shane frowned deeply. "The military, ya know, the guys who were on the front lines of this thing? They got overrun, remember? We've all seen that."

"It's our best choice and Jim's only chance."

Daryl scoffed. "You go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do. But someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!" He attempted to get through the RV's door, crossbow loaded and ready to kill Jim who awaited inside.

"Woah!" Marlie began, trying to hold him back.

However, Rick was quick to take care of the problem, yanking Daryl away from the door and shoving him onto the ground. The officer's gun was suddenly pointed in the hunter's direction. "We don't kill the living," he scolded coldly.

"That's funny coming from a man whose got a gun to my head."

"Guys, guys, enough. Stop it. Rick?" Marlie said assertively, glaring at the blue-eyed deputy.

Lori placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him further.

He lowered his weapon and allowed Marlie to help the hunter to his feet.

She eyed Daryl with a warning.

"What?" he asked aggressively.

Marlie shook her head at him. "Come on," she said, grabbing his thick arm and guiding him away from the RV, not allowing Daryl to refuse. When they were several yards away, Marlie let him have it. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He blinked and furrowed his brows, not liking the way he was being spoken to.

"You were just gonna walk right in there and kill a man? Jim's still human."

"He stopped being human the moment he was bit. He's infected now."

"But it's not our decision to make."

Daryl's lip twitched slightly. "Well I don't wanna just let him become one of _them_ and go off killing more of our people."

Our? Marlie wondered. Had he just included her in the group? It was a simple thing, really, that Daryl probably didn't even have to think twice about, but it made Marlie feel welcome.

"I don't care. It's our choice. Jim's still human whether you believe it or not, and you going all gun-hoe on every little thing isn't helping anybody."

"Oh, well _excuse_ me for being the only sane person here."

Marlie snorted. "Sane? Seriously? You're on a constant hair-trigger. Someone steps too close to you and you flip shit."

Daryl's looked at her with impatience, scratching his lightly-colored beard and mustache. He really didn't want to be having this conversation. "And I suppose you think that the CDC is a good idea?"

"Yes, Daryl, I do. It's better than just waiting around here for more walkers to kill us in our sleep." Marlie sighed and sent her gaze down to her muddy boots. Her hands found their way into her blue jeans pockets where lint and dirt thrived. She hadn't slept hardly at all since she'd arrived at the camp, despite her plan of getting as much rest as possible, and now she was running on just adrenaline from the past night's horrific events. "I just…I don't know what else to do." The last thing she expected was to have Daryl's hands find their way to her shoulders. She closed her eyes at the touch. Who knew that human touch could have such an impact on anybody? But then again, when there were more dead people than living, any contact with anyone was a dream, especially physical.

"Hey," he said quietly and stiffly. "Marlie." That was the first time that he had said her name so kindly. "Look at me."

She glanced up, sleepiness lacing her blue irises.

"Maybe…maybe you're right." He looked away and eyed the bright sky behind her in an effort to avoid Marlie's gaze. He didn't want to seem like he was giving in or anything - that was the last thing he'd ever want - but at that moment, he knew she was right.

"What?"

"The CDC. Maybe it _is_ our best option. I mean, there's nothin' else here." Daryl sniffed casually, shrugging at the devastated camp.

Marlie smirked and nodded before turning away from him and walking back towards the RV.

"Wait, where ya goin'?"

"To tell Rick that I've finally talked some sense into you."

Daryl lifted a brow in her direction, noticing that his heart had been fluttering excitedly during their whole conversation. She had that effect on him.

"Where's Rick?" Marlie asked the deputy's husband.

"Doin' a perimeter check with Shane. Dale's inside talkin' to Jim."

Marlie nodded.

"So what do ya think? About the CDC?"

It was evident that Lori was making small talk to keep her mind away from the fact that her husband was off in the woods, where walkers had been wandering in the night before. So Marlie fed into the conversation for Lori's sake. "I think it's a good idea. I mean, hope's gotta start somewhere."

Lori bobbed her head in agreement. "Yes it does. So tell me, how is it that you can shout in his face and get 'im to cringe, but when anyone else crosses his path, all he wants to do is pick a fight and stab someone?"

Marlie couldn't contain the ensuing laughter, knowing full well that the woman was talking about Daryl. "Um, I'm not really sure, to be honest," she said, looking over her shoulder at the hunter, who was helping Morales load the dead onto a truck bed. There'd be a funeral later on, once Rick and Shane were back, Marlie figured.

"Well, whatever it is, I think he's got the hots for you."

Marlie didn't laugh that time. Instead, she gulped and frowned, her eyes widening a little.

Lori smirked. "Oh, come on. You know exactly what I'm talking about. He's got his eyes on you as often as you look at him. I've never seen him act the way he has been lately."

"What do you mean?"

"Tougher, like he's tryin' to impress someone."

Again, Marlie gulped shyly. Great. So she was the reason for the dangerous battles that took place between Daryl and Rick and anyone else.

"I don't think he'd ever really be able to kill anyone, Marlie. Maim, yes. Kill…not when you're around."

"Then I think it's best that I stay." The answer had been hanging over her head for hours now, but she'd only just said it aloud.

Lori nodded. "Good. You may be quieter than most, but you've been a nice addition to the family."

Marlie looked away nervously then. Family. It was a fresh word for her and she wasn't expecting to be considered a part of another after her own family was erased from the world. But the world felt right in her mind.

She looked back at Daryl, sighing quietly as she watched the strong man work.

TWDTWDTWD

The sun rose the next to a busy camp. People were packing and paying their final respects to the buried dead up on the hill. The funeral that took place the day before had put everyone in a quiet mood and put a sick feeling in the pit of Marlie's stomach.

She hated funerals.

"Everybody listen up!" announced Shane the next day. Everyone was gathered around him with packs on their backs and a small bit of hope in their eyes about the coming trip to the CDC. "Those of you with CB's, we're gonna be on channel forty. Lets keep the chatter down."

"Uh, we're…we're not going." Morales wrapped his arm around his tearful wife's shoulder, squeezing it tightly as he spoke. "We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people."

Rick approached the family and said quietly, "You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back."

"We'll take the chance. I got to do what's best for my family."

Marlie watched on as Rick gave the little group a gun and a half-full box of ammunition. With Morales and his people soon to be gone, the main group shrunk even further. It wouldn't be long until there was no one left. Marlie dreaded the thought.

"Good luck, man," Rick bid with a nod as the family made its way to their truck. "Channel forty if you change your minds. Lets move out," he added to everyone else.

Daryl and the others climbed into their vehicles at that moment, the hunter tossing his crossbow onto the passenger's seat before making himself comfortable in his own. He froze when his passenger door creaked open.

"Hey," Marlie said casually, hopping into the truck and shoving aside the crossbow.

"What do ya think you're doin'?"

"Going to the CDC with you guys. What else?" She fastened her seatbelt and got comfortable, glancing over at Daryl with a sarcastic smile, knowing full well that her presence was unexpected.

"You couldn't pick another vehicle?"

Ahead, engines were roaring to life and beginning to pull away.

Marlie smirked. "Nope. Now do you want to start the engine? I really don't want to get left behind."

Darly shook his head and put his keys in the ignition, causing the truck to rumble to life. He put it into "drive" and pulled forward. "I thought you liked bein' on your own."

Shrugging, Marlie said with complete sarcasm, "Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able hang out with friendly, life-loving people such as yourself."

He scoffed. "Put the CB on forty."

But Marlie simply looked out her window, not budging.

"Please," Daryl added with great reluctance and rolled his eyes when the young woman beside him switch on the black device and turned the dial to channel forty.

Waving at Morales as he turned right out of camp - as opposed to left, where everyone else was going - Marlie asked hesitantly, "Do you think they'll be alright?"

Daryl sighed behind the wheel. "Can't say for sure."

Leaning back against the seat, the woman inhaled deeply, catching whiffs of the other vehicles' exhaust fumes through her rolled-down window. She rubbed her wrists absentmindedly, wrinkling the black leather of her fingerless gloves.

"But I think there's a chance they'll make it." He watched the woman mess with the gloves out of the corner of his eyes, wanting to ask why she never seemed to take them off, but he held his tongue. Instead, he said, "Hope's gotta start somewhere."

Marlie blinked with immense surprise. Daryl had just quoted her and judging by the smirk on his lips, she'd say that he had overheard her conversation with Lori outside of the RV the afternoon before. And if that were true, then he would have probably heard what Lori had said about him and Marlie. Grimacing shyly at the thought, Marlie peered out her window, watching the trees zoom by as they made their way to the CDC. She was glad that the only thing she was leaving behind was the black Dodge Challenger she had taken after Atlanta fell apart. It was a commodity she could live without.

* * *

><p>More chapters-and Meanwhile Moments-to come soon! Comments welcome!<p> 


	6. Meanwhile Moment 2

A second Meanwhile Moment! The next two chapters are going to be really fun to write! I have a few things up my sleeves. Thanks again for everyone's comments and thank you, Nelle07, for the suggestions! They're really going to help me with these next chapters! :) I'm probably going to go on a writing spree today in preparation for the new episode tonight at 9pm. Whoopie!

DISCLAIMER: _The Walking Dead_ does not belong to me. Blah blah blah, you get the idea.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Meanwhile Moment 2

"Did you know that no other type of tree here changes color as brilliantly as sugar maples in the fall?" Marlie stared out her window, enjoying the pleasant sight of trees that lined the highway and leafy scent that filled the truck. When Daryl didn't respond, not unexpectedly, she continued. "And squirrels are the most common mammals in Georgia?"

He snorted. "Can't say I'm surprised. We've driven past a hundred dead ones in the road since we took off from camp."

"Yeah, I guess that one's a given."

Daryl nodded nonchalantly. "Did your dad teach you all those random facts?"

With a slightly saddened tone, Marlie replied, "Yes. He taught me a lot of things."

"Like deer huntin' and mushroom-pickin'?"

"And how to fuck up a family with alcohol. He taught me that bit, too."

Daryl frowned and eyed the road ahead of him, feeling a little awkward then.

"But without him, I'd be dead already. So I guess I'm grateful for that." She ran her fingers through her messy hair and sighed.

"That makes two of us," Daryl mumbled quietly beneath his breath, just out of Marlie's earshot.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

Marlie cocked a brow at the hunter, but otherwise forgot about his inaudible comment. Repositioning herself on the truck's stiff seat, Marlie yawned. She couldn't really remember the last time she had a good night's sleep. Probably not since the apocalypse, she realized. And after the walker attack on the camp two days before, Marlie's racing thoughts and nervousness kept her eyes from closing for more than a few minutes. So sleep was out of the question. She was too excited to sleep, anyway. Marlie always had a problem with getting her hopes up a little too early for everything, but the CDC sounded so good to her that she couldn't help herself. And riding beside Daryl made the trip more enjoyable.

He didn't speak much, which was why Marlie did most of the talking, much to her own surprise. It had become obvious to her that she was falling for him. She had come to grips with that, and despite the danger of losing him, Marlie couldn't get herself to care. She'd be grateful for every second she had to be beside him.

Smiling to herself, Marlie glanced over at the hunter until he looked over at her, meeting her eyes.

"What?" he asked, a little uncomfortably.

Marlie smirked. "Nothing."

Daryl shifted in his seat.

"So what's the story behind the bike?" she asked, jerking her thumb towards the truck bed.

"I didn't steal it, just to be clear. I earned it, unlike your Challenger." He grinned to show that he was only picking on the woman.

She snorted. "Hey, the walkers weren't going to use it, so I didn't see the harm in claiming it." But damn, Marlie did miss that car, and seeing the skeleton of a red Dodge back at camp had put a sad feeling in her gut. Yep, she was in mourning.

"I bought it a few years ago. Took it out everyday."

"What kind is it?"

"'71 Triumph, and damn, does she fly!"

Marlie giggled. "Maybe you should take me out on it sometime."

He looked over at her and, after a few moments, nodded in agreement. "If I ever get to ride her again."

"A little faith, Daryl Dixon," Marlie recommended with a pretty smile.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said in return, smirking. The hunter glanced over at her a moment later, observing her as she peered out her window again, watching the way the wind flicked her hair across her forehead and over her shoulders. Then his eyes made his way down her body, taking in as much detail as he could before he had to put his gaze back onto the road. "So I take it the geeks didn't have much use for the boots and knife, either?"

Marlie shrugged. "There was an Army store a few blocks from where I lived in Atlanta. I figured I could use some sturdy shoes and a good, quiet weapon. And then I found the cargo belt and gloves, which I cut off the fingers to keep cool." She fidgeted with the black leather, itching her wrists. "But everything else is mine. Shirt, pants, these." Pushing her hair behind her left ear, she revealed two silver piercings—one cartilage and one lobe. "My mother's," she added solemnly.

"They're nice." Daryl flashed a half-smile. "But what are the gloves really for?"

The young woman was quick to reply. "It keeps the knife from slipping. Adds grip for a more accurate throw."

Daryl wasn't convinced, but he nodded anyway. Maybe one day she'd trust him enough to tell him the truth.

Now interested in changing the subject, Marlie looked at the RV in front of them and asked, "Do you think Dale would like it if you floored it a little?" There was a sly grin on Marlie's face.

"No, I imagine he wouldn't." He was a little surprised at Marlie's sense of playfulness. "But I would." The truck suddenly roared as it accelerated wildly. In an instant, it was riding the RV's bumper.

Marlie and Daryl broke into amused laughter when the RV's speed increased to get away from the gaining truck.

"I bet he's shittin' bricks in there," Daryl said between spurts of snickers.

Marlie agreed happily. She glanced at the RV's right side window and laughed harder when she saw Glenn stick his hand out, his middle finger flipped up. "Oh shit, they're pissed!"

"Ya think?" Daryl snorted.

"Glenn's flipping us off."

Daryl looked at Marlie seriously, but could only keep his face straight for so long before his laughed some more. After a few moments of continuous hysterics, Daryl eased his foot off the gas and backed off.

"We're gonna be in so much trouble," Marlie mused, still grinning.

"Who the hell cares?"

"Not me."

"Not me, neither." He sighed and leaned back into his seat, relaxing for the first time since they departed from camp.

The peaceful calm was replaced by tenseness when a loud hissing erupted from the RV ahead.

"Shit," Daryl cursed as he slowed the truck down. "I bet it's that damn hose again."

Marlie didn't know what he was talking about, but it didn't really matter. The caravan was stopped and they were sitting ducks.

* * *

><p>Another chapter, coming up later today! Maybe, if you guys are lucky, I'll have *TWO* up by the end of the day! *fingers crossed*<p> 


	7. Friends

A shorter chapter, but it's better than nothing! Hopefully, I'll get another one up before the day's out, but I'm not sure. We'll see how the day plays out. As always, I love reading all of your comments and suggestions! They're wonderful and please give me more! It urges me to keep up with this fic.

DISCLAIMER: _The Walking Dead_, sadly, is not mine. No copyright intended. But Marlie is mine! Just saying...

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Five: Friends

"Guys, it's Jim," said a worried Jacqui as she hurried out of the busted RV. "I don't think he can take anymore."

Marlie couldn't say that she was surprised. From what she had heard, Jim's condition was getting worse with each passing minute. It wouldn't be long before the fever finally took its toll.

"Rick, will you hold down the fort? I'll drive ahead and see what I can bring back," Shane commented.

"Yeah, alright."

Shane nodded and departed with T-Dog in search of parts to repair the RV's broken radiator hose.

As the two drove off, Daryl was pulled aside Dale. "That stunt back there, with tailgating, it wasn't funny."

Marlie gulped when Dale made eye contact with her, a warning in his gaze. She shied away from his glare.

A moment later, Daryl was beside her. "Thanks for the backup," he grumbled.

"I had only suggested it. You were the one behind the wheel." She knew she had won the conversation when Daryl simply eyed her, but otherwise said nothing.

At the RV's door, Rick sighed, removing his hat before entering to speak with a weakened Jim.

"S'not lookin' good," Daryl eventually whispered beside Marlie, his crossbow pointed upward. That thing never left his side.

Folding her slender arms over her chest, Marlie nodded, blinking against the bright midday sun.

"I told you I should have taken the shot. There's still time."

Marlie didn't turn to look at him. "It's not our decision to make."

"Jim's hardly lucid in there. He can't decide anything for himself."

"It's still not our choice, Daryl."

He grunted, not entirely sure what to say to defend is opinion without completely shutting the young woman down. "Well it should be," he finally decided, turning his back to Marlie to survey their surroundings.

A few minutes passed and Marlie sighed relief when Shane and T-Dog returned, smiled on their faces.

Better spread the good news, she thought as she tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped into the dim RV.

Daryl watched with furrowed brows as she disappeared from sight for the first time in a long while. It felt strange to have her away from him. He almost didn't like her not being in his sights.

"Hey," Jim groaned at Marlie with a shaky smile.

She nodded carefully. "How are you feeling?" Mentally, she smacked herself for asking such a stupid question. It was quite obvious by the sweat dripping off the man's red face and the sickness clouding his eyes that Jim was not feeling well at all.

Rick answered for him with a shake of his head.

Stepping further into the vehicle, Marlie found a spot in the hallway where she could kneel down. "Shane's back with parts."

"You hear that?" Rick asked hopefully. "Shane found a part for the RV, so we'll be back on the road soon."

Jim cringed. "Oh no. God, my bones are like glass," he said, his voice scratchy. "Every little bump—" He closed his eyes painfully just thinking about what it would be like to get moving again. "—This ride is killing me."

Marlie looked up at Rick. "Couldn't we go look for something to help with the fever? I don't know, aspirin or Tylenol or something?"

Frowning deeply, Rick prepared to speak, but Jim's voice kept him silent.

"Leave me here," he said, looking at Marlie with a sense of calmness in his eyes that frightened the young woman.

It scared her to think that soon, Jim would be a walker. An undead thing with a constant craving for flesh. She hated herself for thinking of him as such a monster, but it was true. Marlie was staring at a walker-to-be.

"I'm done," the sick man continued. "Just leave me. I want to be with my family."

Rick blinked. "They're all dead. I don't think you know what you're asking. The fever—"

"I know what I'm asking. Don't you think I know?" He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and groaned in pain. "I'm clear now. In five minutes, I might not be."

The deputy was hesitant.

"Rick, I know what I'm asking. I want this. Leave me here. My decision. Not your failure," he reassured weakly.

Nodding slowly, the officer rose and squeezed past Marlie.

She patted Jim's bed softly and smiled a half-smile at him before exiting the RV. She wandered off down the road a hundred feet, finding a small shrub with flowers blooming all over it. Marlie returned with one in her hand, her fingers wrapped around it protectively. She found her place beside Daryl, like always.

He noted the flower peeking out between her fingers and, with slight hesitation, he grabbed cupper her fist with his own warm hand, further protecting the tiny blossom.

Marlie felt his hand on hers and she blinked a few times in surprise. But she didn't looked down or at Daryl. Simply, she sighed with content, a microscopic grin touching the corners of her chapped lips.

"And he's lucid?" Jacqui asked when Rick told the group what Jim had asked for.

"It seems like it," Marlie commented sadly.

Dale pitched in his voice then, saying to Rick, "Back at camp, when I said that Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood." He took a step forward, wiping his grease-covered hands on an old rag from the RV. "I would never go along with callously killing a man."

Marlie felt the hunter beside her tense and she nudged him gently, a soft warning.

"I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants."

"Then I think we have an answer," Marlie finished.

Shaking his head rebelliously—as always, it seemed—Shane asked gruffly, "So we just leave him here? I don't think I could live with that."

"It's not your call," Marlie piped assertively at the officer. She was beginning to find her voice.

No one denied her words because they knew she was right. A silent understanding and realization of what was to be done drifted between each member of the group.

A short time later, Jim was leaned against a tall sugar maple up a hill beside the road. Breathing heavily, he groaned sarcastically, "Hey, another damn tree."

Marlie frowned at the man's attempt to lighten the mood. It only hurt more. But she was at least comforted by Daryl, who stood beside her, his warm arm pressed against her own and his hand still on hers.

"Hey, Jim, it doesn't have to be like this," commented Rick who was knelt beside the dying man.

"I know, but it's okay. The breeze feels nice."

"Do you want this?" asked the officer quietly, reaching a little gun out to him.

"No," he replied. "You guys will need it. I'm okay, I'm okay."

Rick sighed and patted Jim's shoulder before stepping aside, allowing Jacqui to approach.

She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek; there were tears streaming down her own. "Don't fight it, Jim," she said softly.

Dale was next. He kneeled down and, with a sad smile, said, "Thanks for, uh, for fighting for us."

"Okay," Jim said weakly, nodding.

Everyone knew it was time to leave him. The sun wouldn't be up forever. One by one, the group members nodded and smiled sadly at Jim, departing back down the hill to their vehicles.

Daryl and Marlie were the last to leave.

With the little flower cupped in her hand, Marlie approached carefully. She didn't say anything; she wasn't sure what could possibly be said at that moment to make anyone feel better. So she simply crouched down, took Jim's hand and turned his palm upwards. The flower was placed in it delicately before Marlie closed his hot hand with her own.

He smiled faintly at her and watched as she turned away towards the truck.

Daryl took a few steps forward, crossbow in his grasp.

"Don't hurt her," Jim said scratchily. "She's a good person. With a good heart."

Daryl nodded once, already knowing that, and headed back to the caravan, leaving Jim in the shade of the tall maple to wait for death.

* * *

><p>Onto chapter six! Lets see if I can finish it today...<p> 


	8. Persistence

Hey again! I wish I could have finished this chapter yesterday, but I got so caught up in the new episode that I couldn't concentrate enough to write anything. But here it is! I broke it up into two chapters, both of which I think you all will like very much. I know I had a lot of fun writing them. Enjoy! And comment, please! I love reading them so much!

DISCLAIMER: Seriously, do I really need to put this thing up for each chapter? Well, I don't own _The Walking Dead_. The end.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Six: Persistence

The group arrived at the Center for Disease Control just as the sun had begun to set, casting the sky in an indigo glow. There was an air of anxiety surrounding everyone as they stepped out from their vehicles.

Bodies of military men were strewn about every which way - along the concrete, over Humvees and turrets, on piles of pale sandbags - leaving hardly any room to move around without coming in contact with the dead. And there were flies. So many flies buzzing over the corpses.

Marlie turned up her nose with disgust and coughed; the smell of decaying flesh was overpowering. She carried on a few feet ahead of Daryl and cringed when her toe nudged against a thin, camouflaged woman.

Her brunette hair was pulled back in a tight bun, revealing every inch of her pale cheekbones that sat higher than most peoples'. Bite marks riddled her body and there was no sign of her right forearm, which had been yanked completely out of its socket. And there was an emptiness in her ocean blue eyes that sent goosebumps all along Marlie's flesh.

This dead woman reminded her, somewhat, of herself. Blue eyes, pale skin, light brown hair, an invisible strength that had probably kept this deceased woman fighting until her last breath. An image of Marlie in place of the military woman flashed behind the younger one's eyes, sending a gasp from her lips. She stumbled back, unintentionally pushing into Daryl.

"Woah, careful," he uttered quietly. "You okay?"

Marlie looked over her shoulder at him and nodded quickly, unable to hide her fear quickly enough for the hunter. She could only imagine how the two children - Sophia and Carl - were holding up. Had it not been for Carol and Lori, she figured the kids would have lost it by now.

"We're almost there and I'm right behind you." Daryl placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly and kept it there for several moments after Marlie had resumed walking.

Whispering, she said, "Sorry."

Daryl shook his head, even though she didn't see. "Don't worry 'bout it. I ain't a fan of graveyards, either."

Up ahead, Rick picked up pace towards the large, glassy building. He wound up in front of a white door and waved for everyone else to catch up. Along with Shane, he attempted to lift it, but to no avail. So Rick proceeded to bang noisily on the metal door with vigor.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, but there was still response.

"There's nobody here," noted T-Dog pessimistically.

Rick's jaw tensed. "Then why are the doors down?"

"We know you're in there," Rick said quietly at a white camera that was positioned above. "Let us in!"

Still, there was nothing. No sounds coming behind the white door; no sign of life within.

"Rick, there ain't anyone here," Shane observed, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Something in Marlie's gut dropped and her sank a little. "We won't know for sure without knocking." But she tensed more with each bang. It would only be a matter of time before something else heard.

"I understand that, Marlie," Shane replied, "but it's getting dark and we all know what that means."

Already, the wind was beginning to carry with it the smell of decaying flesh. It could have just been the dead military people surrounding the complex, but the stench was getting stronger.

Marlie clutched her knife tighter in her hand. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears and her heart begin to race.

"Rick, come on. No one's there." Hopelessness laced Shane's words.

"Come on," Daryl muttered beside Marlie, wanting to get the hell out of there.

But she didn't budge. "Someone had to have survived, Daryl. Anybody."

"If that's true, then where are they? 'Cuz all I see are dead people." He scanned his surroundings and caught sight of the first geek wandering slowly out from behind a Humvee. "Walker!"

The group went into high-alert and raised their weapons.

But Daryl fired the shot. A yellow and red bow whizzed quietly through the air, nailing the geek in between the eyes. Turning to Rick, he shouted, "You led us into a graveyard!"

"He made a call," asserted Shane.

"It was the wrong damn call!"

"Just shut up," the dark-haired officer said aggressively, pointing his finger at Daryl. "You hear me? Just shut up. Shut up!" Shane pushed back the hunter, who made no move to retaliate.

Marlie didn't bother intervening. She just rolled her eyes spitefully at the two.

"Where are we gonna go?" cried Carol worriedly, clutching Sophia close to her.

Lori looked at her husband, holding her own kin close. "We can't stay here, not this close to the city after dark."

A moment of thought past before Rick, but he honestly didn't know what to do.

"Fort Benning," Lori offered. "It's still an option."

"On what? There's no food, no fuel. It's a hundred miles," Andrea countered.

"A hundred and twenty-five. I checked the map," corrected Glenn.

Angrily, Lori said, "Alrigt, forget Fort Benning! We need answers _tonight!_"

Rick was conflicted and he made that very evident in his hesitation. He had to keep in mind that there was more than just him there. He had a family and friends to watch out for. "We'll think of something," he assured slowly.

Shane wasn't having anymore of it. Assertively, he began ushering everyone back to the caravan.

But Marlie was hesitant. "I don't…Daryl, I think we should…"

"Marlie, come on!" the hunter shouted, grabbing her elbow tightly and taking her with him back to the truck.

Her mind knew that getting back to the vehicles was the safest, smartest thing to do, but her heart wanted her to hold out a little longer beside Rick.

"Rick!" yelled Lori behind them. "Come on!" She held onto Carl's hand with a painful strength, but she wasn't about to let go.

"Wait!" Rick cried out, hope springing into his tone. "The camera moved!"

"You imagined it," Dale said disbelievingly.

"No, no, it moved!" His bright eyes were glued to the camera above, waiting for it to budge again. "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me."

"Rick, it is dead!" Shane snarled.

Marlie was getting pulled away by Daryl, but she excitedly patted his hand that was attached to her elbow when she saw the camera swivel slightly. "Daryl, it moved. It moved!" she cried out to the others. "Rick wasn't imagining it! It really—"

The rest of group had begun to slow down, a small bit of hope creeping into their hearts, but Shane was quick to crush them. "Everyone, back to the cars! _Now!_ Rick, lets go!"

But he didn't listen. "Please, we're desperate. We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left."

Daryl fought against Marlie's wishes to stay, but she brushed his hand off of her gruffly.

Looking straight into his blue eyes, she said sternly, "I'm not leaving until this door opens, Daryl. Somebody's in there, watching, and I'm not leaving this spot until—" Her sentence was cut off when Daryl scooped her up roughly and tossed her over his shoulder, growling.

"Let me go!" she yelled, pushing against the strong man's back. "You can't do this!"

He didn't say a word, but instead held on tightly to the fidgeting girl's legs and headed towards his truck, ignoring the surprised expressions from the rest of the group.

"It's dead!" screamed Shane into Rick's ear, grabbing the front of the deputy's shirt and attempting to drag him away.

But Rick shrugged him off and hammered his fists into the metal.

Lori hurried in front of him and tried shoving him back. "Lets go," she pleaded, but Rick refused, ignoring his wife and staring up into the camera.

Everyone eyed their surroundings, terrified that they were sitting ducks. Ducks with guns, granted, but ducks no less.

Meanwhile, Daryl didn't care that the group had stopped their return trip to the caravan; he simply kept on walking towards his truck with Marlie slung over his right shoulder.

She was screaming in his ear, completely opposing what he was doing. When she was free, Marlie vowed to kick the manhood right out of his pants.

Back at the CDC doors, Rick was praying for a miracle. "Please," he begged. But he was finally pushed back by Shane, who refused to let the other man go.

"Come on, buddy, lets go."

"You're killing us!" Rick cried out over the shouts coming from Lori and Andrea and everyone else. "You're killing us!"

Marlie continued fighting against Daryl and the kids were crying. There was chaos. Overwhelming chaos that terrified Marlie to the bone.

It all stopped when the door lifted and a bright light flooded outward, encasing the group in an angelic white glow.

Daryl turned around, keeping Marlie from seeing what was going on.

"Let me go!" she cried out once more before Daryl kneeled down, letting the woman's feet touch the cement. She pushed off and stepped away from him, a nasty expression of anger written on her face. It was quickly replaced with surprise when she saw the light.

"Hurry! Everyone inside!" Rick yelled, urging the group into the building before disappearing inside as well.

The surprise in the air was tangible and thick.

Marlie looked around, knife held tightly in her sweating palm, and panted. She didn't look at Daryl, whose eyes she could feel on her. Yes, she knew that he had only been protecting her and doing what was best for her wellbeing, but throwing her over his shoulder had been uncalled for, to say the least. Then again, there were walkers out there and she hadn't been moving. Therefore, it only made sense that someone moved her instead. Her panicking head was finally clearing, though, and already the urge to kick in Daryl's balls was diminishing.

"Hello?" rang a male voice from the other end of the tall, wide room.

Everyone in the group with a weapon aimed them at the shadow.

"Anyone infected?" the man asked.

Rick lowered his gun slightly. "We did, but he didn't make it." His voice was sad as he recalled Jim.

"What do you want?" wondered the man, stepping out of the shadows.

"A chance," Rick replied.

Silence fell until the grey-shirted stranger lowered his weapon. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

"We can do that," Rick nodded.

The man pointed at the entrance. "If you have anything out there, you better bring it in. Once that doors closes, it stays closed."

The group didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

><p>Another chapter coming up!<p> 


	9. Booze

Ta-da! I had originally planned on making this chapter and the last as a single entity, but then I chose not to because of reasons. Anyway, read on and enjoy!

I DO NOT OWN _THE WALKING DEAD_.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Seven: Booze

Marlie wasn't claustrophobic, but it was easy to become so when knowing that you're several levels underground. It disturbed her, in a way, to be so far below.

She still wasn't talking to Daryl and was glad that he didn't attempt to engage in conversation with her. She had lost all interest in speaking with anyone. Not entirely due to the mood that Daryl had put her in, but more because she was so relieved to be safe that all Marlie wished to do was bask in the relaxing aura that the group was finally giving off for the first time since, well, since Marlie had first met them.

Jenner, the scientist who had granted them all entrance, was a strange man. It wasn't surprising, since he had been alone for a while now, the only one left after most of the other staff at the facility had committed suicide. All he had to keep him company now was an artificially intelligent computer that ran the military complex - Vi - and his own reflection.

The blood testing had gone well; all tests came up negative. No surprise, although it was a relief, nonetheless, to know for sure.

The good part came when the group found out how much food Jenner had in the facility. There was a lot and a feast soon ensued.

But the best part, by far, was the alcohol. There was alcohol! Wine, to be exact. Marlie had only been drunk once since the outbreak, but she had been alone and couldn't enjoy the company of other drunken people, which had always been her favorite type of company. Interesting, hilarious and revealing, drunks were.

Dale was pouring the red liquid for everyone at the table, saying, "In Italy, children have a little bit of wine at dinner." There was a happy grin on his face. "And in France."

Smirking, Lori took a glass full of wine from Dale's hands and said, "Well, when Carl's in Italy or France, he can have wine at dinner."

Snickers drifted over the table.

"What's it gonna hurt? Come on," Rick commented pleasantly, shoveling a fork-full of pasta into his mouth.

Lori stared down her husband with a grin before giggling, which was interpreted as a "yes".

"Yeah," cheered T-Dog.

Marlie, from the other end of the table near Glenn and Andrea, grinned widely when Carl was handed a cup with a small portion of wine at the bottom. "Cheers," she said happily, holding her wine glass up.

"Cheers," agreed the rest of the table, clanging their cups against one another's.

Marlie unintentionally made eye contact with Daryl, who was standing beside T-Dog's chair. She watched him stiffly for a few moments before giving him a curt nod.

He raised his wine bottle to her.

Then the air fell quiet as Carl brought the wine to his lips. A small bit crept down his throat and he cringed against the burning. "Ew!" he exclaimed, shaking his head with disgust.

Another wave of laughter erupted.

"That's my boy," Lori applauded quietly. "That's my boy."

Rick simply laughed.

"Just pretend it's soda pop, little man," advised Shane with a grin.

With bright eyes, Marlie took the wine bottle away from Glenn, who had been staring at it awkwardly for a while, and poured herself a second glass. She handed it back to Glenn, who shook his head at it.

"Aw, not you, Glenn," mocked Daryl, leaning over the table with his own bottle of alcohol. "You keep drinking. I wanna see how red your face can get."

Unable to help herself, Marlie laughed and nudged Glenn's shoulder with her own. "Won't that be a sight!" She continued to giggle.

The recognizable sound of metal against glass silenced everyone. Rick stood up, holding his glass high, and said, "It seems we haven't thanked our host properly yet."

T-Dog held his own glass out and added, "He is more than just our host."

The table nodded and cheered, each holding up their drinks to Jenner, who was sitting quietly at the opposite end of the long table.

"Booyah!" Daryl hailed, arms extended.

"Yeah, booyah!" agreed T-Dog, the rest of the group repeating the silly word happily.

Marlie, who was beginning to feel the beginning effects of the alcohol, simply smirked and shook her head at Daryl. "Booyah," she said, holding out her empty glass.

A little while later, Jenner took the group through the different hallways of the accessible areas of the complex. There weren't bedrooms in that part of the facility, but there were spare cots in storage and various rooms with comfortable couches. Most things that drew electricity weren't allowed to be turned on, but they'd make do.

And there were showers. Showers with _hot water!_

Marlie took hers slowly, even though Jenner had mentioned to make them quick. She didn't care and she figured that no one else would, either. No one had taken a real shower in ages and they weren't about to be rushed.

She let the hot water flow over her face, through her knotted brown hair, down her naked body. For the first time in a while, the leather gloves were off and sitting beside a pile of fresh pajamas just outside the clear shower door. The soapy water ran over her pale hands comfortingly. She rubbed her wrists with delicacy, brushing her fingers over the thin scars that ran two inches up each of them.

Emotions flooded her mind then - sadness, fear, hate, relief, love - everything that Marlie had been feeling since the apocalypse and since meeting the others. The emotions all rushed into her mind, with the help of the alcohol, and she cried. She cried harder than she had in a long time.

And all she could think of was Daryl.

Marlie remained in the shower for a while after the tears came to a halt. When she finally dried off and got dressed, almost an hour had passed. She felt bad that she had been in there for so long; after all, Jenner had said to keep them short. But Marlie had to admit that she felt better. The dirt beneath her fingernails and in her hair was gone. And the crying helped.

Stepping out of the showering room, Marlie stumbled drunkenly into hallway with a start.

Daryl was waiting for her there, leaning against the wall with a half-full bottle of wine in his grasp. "You sure took long enough," he said, slurring his words a little.

"I didn't know you were waiting. You could have knocked."

"I already showered."

Marlie's brows wrinkled.

"I was waiting for you." He reached down and placed a rough kiss on her lips.

It was sudden and Marlie wasn't ready. And his lips were barely even on hers; he'd almost missed. He's pretty damn drunk, she mused. But then again, so was she. Pushing him away, Marlie looked up at him with wonder in her eyes. Did she really want this? They were both drunk and not thinking clearly and might regret it in the morning. No we wouldn't, she realized. Marlie had wanted this since she met Daryl.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, Marlie pulled him to his lips and allowed him to lead her to an empty rec room where a cozy couch awaited them. She didn't realize that her black leather gloves were still lying on the bathroom floor.

* * *

><p>Hm, I'm not sure how to go about with the next chapter. So I need your help, guys. I could either skip all the mushy, sexual details or I could include them. You are my readers, so give me your thoughts! Sex or no sex? Haha, wow. I never imagined myself asking that question. So leave me your comments, people! I need them now more than ever!<p> 


	10. Partner

Here you go, my wonderful story-readers that keep my world turning! Now, a majority of you voted for sex (lol, I will not get used to saying that), so that's what I wrote. But I did keep in mind that there were few who voted against it. So in an attempt to keep everyone happy, I didn't go _too_ crazy. I hope I found a happy medium with this chapter.

Read on and by the way, I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS! I personally messaged many of you in thanks, but to those I didn't, I am thanking each and every one of you now. :)

DISCLAIMER: Nope, sorry. I don't own _The Walking Dead_, although I'd prolly be cooler if I did...

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Eight: Partner

Her libido was on fire and every place that Daryl's skin met hers sent hot fire through her body. She barely remembered making it to the recreation room; there was a great deal of alcohol in her system. Hers _and_ Daryl's, to be more precise. There was a good chance that neither one of them would recollect what occurred that night, but at that moment, neither of them cared.

The door was closed and had a ping-pong table pulled behind it, which had been placed there by the drunk, giggling pair before finding the microfiber couch of unknown color; once the door was closed, the room went entirely black, save for the tiny sliver of light from beneath the door. There were no windows since they were underground and neither bothered to turn on a lamp. The darkness was, surprisingly enough despite the undead apocalypse happening above, comforting.

Daryl was positioned on top of her, his drunken fingers stumbling over the men's cotton tee that she had chosen for a pajama top.

Noticing his struggles, Marlie assisted in the removal of the shirt, crossing her arms and grabbing the bottom edges to lift over her head. She had chosen to not wear a bra after showering, which seemed to suit Daryl pretty well. Marlie doubted that he would have been able to get it off if he tried, thanks to the booze.

That being noted, she helped him with his own shirt before unbuttoning his jeans with an accidental giggle.

"What's so funny?" Daryl wondered as he kissed the woman's hot neck.

Still giggling, Marlie assured him that it was nothing. Only the wine working its way into her veins. "Don't you laugh when you're drunk?"

"I prefer to drink when I'm drunk."

Marlie laughed again, her breath hitching when Daryl caressed her warm chest with lips. His facial hairs tickled her, but she restrained her giggles, lest she make Daryl uncomfortable.

They were completely stripped a few moments later, breathing heavily with intoxication. But it wasn't just from the alcohol.

There was something in the air and it was sending sparks down their bodies, igniting their hearts and making them feel something that neither of them had felt in a long time.

Kissing her cheek with gentle pecks, Daryl made his way to Marlie's lips, where his kisses turned fierce and demanding. He wanted this more than he had wanted anything else in his life. In his whole life. A shudder passed down his spine as her tongue slid between his teeth. He could taste her and he loved every second of it, groaning in pleasure and urgency, as though he'd simply die if she stopped now.

Marlie needed it just as much as he did. Her nails dug into his back, grinding her pelvis into his without even realizing what she was doing. It could have just been the booze, but Marlie doubted it. She was in love with this man. There was no way around it, and as much as she had never wanted such a thing to happen, it had, nonetheless. Sometimes, she wondered if she had any control over her heart at all. She didn't when it obviously belonged to someone else. It was Daryl's to do with what he pleased, just like her body beneath him.

And right then, his hands were creeping down her body with anticipation, taking careful pit stops along the way. Her breasts, the indented skin above her belly button, her naval, and below. Heat flowed from him as if he would spontaneously combust. Daryl imagined that he wasn't too far off.

All the while, Marlie tried desperately to keep herself from moaning too loudly with Daryl's surprisingly soft touch, in fear that someone passing the rec room might hear. But then again, everyone would surely be on their way to bed soon, which meant that Daryl and Marlie had the night themselves. Unless, of course, someone tried to get in. But that was what the ping-pong table was for.

She couldn't believe that, despite how rough and rugged the expert hunter was, Daryl was being unbelievably gentle with her. There was a yearning, desperateness to his every move, but he his fingers were light and caressing, his lips strong yet sensual with every kiss. This man _needed_ Marlie. Without a doubt, they were now inseparable.

Reaching down, Daryl grabbed his hardness in preparation of pleasing Marlie completely, but she stopped him with great reluctance.

Every cell in her body was screaming at her to let it happen, to feel him deep inside her, but Marlie's mind was clear enough to know the possible consequences that could occur if she didn't stop it. "There's no condoms," she slurred, panting heavily beneath him, feeling his length against her stomach.

He, too, was breathing hard as his shoulders slumped a little in disappointment. Daryl understood the need for protection, but it still upset him. Damn, he really hated the apocalypse sometimes. It was so much harder to get a hold of a Trojan when he really needed one.

Sighing, he nuzzled into Marlie's neck.

She snickered quietly as her denim blue eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy. "But we can still have fun." Her fingers locked onto his short brown hair, pushing him closer to her skin as she bobbed her hips. Marlie's brain was swimming intensely by then, and it wasn't the wine, although alcohol _did_ have something to do with the way the dark room seemed to be spinning.

Marlie's breathing hitched each time she felt Daryl's tongue brush against her flesh.

And he laughed when she did so. Daryl was enjoying that fact that he was teasing her. So he licked her again.

"Stop," Marlie eventually warned, still unable to keep herself from smiling. But when Daryl ignored her demand, she repeated it more assertively.

The hunter simply laughed and did it another time, liking the way her skin tasted. Was this why the walkers loved human flesh so much?

"I said stop."

"Make me," he challenged devilishly.

Smirking, Marlie accepted his invitation wholeheartedly. Sighing because she knew she'd have to get childish on Daryl's sarcastic ass, Marlie reach down his sides and tickled him furiously. There was no guarantee that he was actually ticklish, but it was worth a try.

Her attempts were not futile in the least.

Gasping with surprise, Daryl yelped and tensed. His body convulsed as he tried to wriggle his way out of Marlie's attack, but she was relentless. And to make matters worse, she was enjoying it! "No, no!" he cried, no longer nuzzling her.

But she didn't give up. Instead, Marlie kept tickling him until he rolled off the couch completely.

Daryl grunted when she landed on top of him, but at least she had stopped tickling him. Panting, he said, "Christ, woman."

"Maybe next time you'll stop when I tell you to." There was a sly little grin on her face.

It was hard to see in the dark, but Daryl could tell by Marlie's tone that she was smiling. "So you're in charge, huh?"

"Yep."

"Since when?"

"Since right now." She lowered her lips onto his in a sweet kiss before making her way down his neck where the young woman's teeth brushed against his perspiring skin.

He twitched, tickled yet again. "Stop."

"Or what? You'll tickle me?" Daryl was silent and she knew exactly what was going through his head. "No, don't." But it was useless.

His fingers were already on her sides teasingly as she toppled backwards drunkenly and defenselessly.

"Daryl, no, please," she begged between laughs, struggling to breathe.

"How does it feel?" the hunter asked jokingly.

Marlie pushed on Daryl's chest weakly in an attempt to get him off of her. "Oh my god, stop, please! Stop!"

There was so much smiling and playful giggling between the two that, for the first time ever, they completely forgot that the world had ended. That everyone they had ever loved or cared about was dead and gone. There was only them, right there, right then, and life was perfect. Everything was right and they were safe.

The feeling lasted throughout the entire night. They were both too drunk to crawl back onto the couch—they had both tried, nonetheless—so they passed out naked on the floor with Marlie's head resting over Daryl's soothing heart.

When morning finally arrived - it was difficult to tell with no windows - Daryl woke first. He stretched and moaned sleepily, already feeling the affects of last night's heavy drinking. Luckily, he hadn't found need to regurgitate his stomach's contents, but it was his head that was the problem now. There was a fierce pounding behind his eyeballs and the slightest movement sent pain through his brain.

Looking down at the weight on his chest, he smiled crookedly.

Marlie was still fast asleep, her breathing slowly, evenly to the beat of his heart. She shifted slightly when Daryl snorted, realizing that neither of them had bothered to put clothes on.

He barely recalled everything that had happened hours before, but he remembered the important parts - kissing, touching, no condoms, tickling. God, the tickling, he mused, smiling to himself. But then he noticed the bare hand on his chest.

Marlie's bare hand. No gloves, no nothing. Just skin.

He'd never seen her without the cutoff gloves on. Curiosity took over. But it wasn't just that. Daryl _needed_ to know what was so bad that Marlie couldn't show him. He figured that, if he knew, he might be able to help.

Hesitantly and with gentleness, he carefully took her hand and turned it on its side, revealing her palm and wrist. He blinked and froze as he stared at the two-inch-long, freshly healed scar traveling up her wrist. It was difficult to see in the darkness of the rec room, so he gliding his thumb over the injury. It felt chaffed, in the final stages of healing, but not quite there yet.

On his chest, Marlie squirmed and moaned. Yawning, she opened her tired eyes to find Daryl looking at her bare hand in the dark. Her gloves were gone! Gasping, the young woman yanked her hand away and sat up quickly, causing her head to spin. She blinked against the headache and held her wrist with her other hand, all the while staring wide-eyed at a questioning Daryl.

"You wanna tell me what that's from?"

* * *

><p>Sorry, I had to do another cliffhanger. But fear not! I'll be updating either later today or tomorrow. Thanks, by the way, for everyone who helped me decide how to go about writing this. My many thanks to you all!<p> 


	11. Meanwhile Moment 3

Sorry for the wait! I've been trying to get off the computer so I'm not such a bum, but tonight, I am its slave to write more Daryl/Marlie. I don't think any of you will mind that. :) As always, I love love love everyone's comments and kindness! FYI..._Italic_ chunks are pieces from the past/Marlie's story, although that's pretty self-explanator. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Oh god, here we go again. Y'all know the drill. I don't own _The Walking Dead_, but Marlie's mine. Carry on.

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Meanwhile Moment 3

Marlie wanted to see his face more than anything, to see his expression, but at the same time, she didn't want him to see the fear that clouded her own.

"You tried to off yourself."

It was hard to tell if Daryl had been asking or simply stating the obvious, but Marlie chose to respond either way. "Yes."

"Tell me."

That one was a demand, Marlie noted. An angry one, to be honest. She didn't want to share this story. She just wanted to go back to sleep on top of him, wanted to have another childish tickle fight and forget every bad thing in the world. But it didn't work that way. The truth had to be faced.

With a heavy heart, Marlie found her t-shirt beside her and slid it back on and waited for Daryl to put on his boxers in the dark. She sighed before beginning the hardest story she'd ever tell.

_ The sky above the deserted Georgian back road was dark and cloudy. A heavy rain was falling onto the road, slickening the asphalt._

_ We were driving back from the airport where Jack had been._

_ He was a military man. The Navy, to be more precise. The United States Fleet Forces Command, located in the Atlantic Ocean, was where he was being trained. But he, along with most other trainees, had been allowed a short leave. Not unexpectedly, Jack chose to come see us—Mom and I, the only two people left in his immediate family. There was no Dad, not after the divorce._

_ The airport was a ways out of Atlanta, but the three of the us were going to enjoy the ride back home, talking about Jack's life at sea, how great it was that he was back for a week, what kinds of dinners Mom was going to be forced into cooking now that her only son was back home._

_ I was so excited to see him again; it had been six months since he'd been home. There were so many stories to tell him, like the time back in April when I got so drunk at a friend's place that I somehow managed to break every electronic device in the entire house, claiming that the FBI was listening in. Or when Mom left the back door open and two guy cats strutted in in search of my female feline, Kie. God, it had been hell getting those strays back outside._

_ Along with the story telling, I was going to show Jack all the newspaper columns that I wrote over the summer. And he was going to give me ideas for future writings while Mom ranted on about how I should quit the newspaper business and write a book. "I'll still need a job while I'm writing a novel," I'd say to her, rolling my eyes._

_ But it never happened. I never wrote an award-winning piece of literature. I never told Jack all my funny stories from while he was away. Mom never got around to cooking those long-awaited meals for my Navy-blooded big brother._

_ Hell, we never made it home from the airport._

_ Like I said, the roads were slippery and wet and it was hard to see beyond the brights of the car. There was just so much rain and darkness._

_ Mom rounded a corner carefully, but was taken completely off-guard when a grungy-looking man limped out from the ditch on the right. She swerved; I clung onto the oh-shit handle above my window in the backseat; and Jack gasped, already knowing what was about to happen._

_ We all screamed._

_ The man was avoided just by a hair, but that didn't help us. The tires squealed as my Mom panicked and jerked the wheel too hard to the left. One second, we were hydroplaning along the road. The next, the car was flipping like a weightless plastic toy across the pavement._

_ I don't know how many times we rolled. I think I blacked out after the third impact, but I wish I hadn't. I wish had stayed awake the whole time, that way I could have done something to prevent what happened next._

_ When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the headache. It pulsed behind my eyes like a devastating hammer and kept me from focusing on the world around me. But when my vision cleared, I took in every detail slowly and carefully._

_ First, the car was right side up. That was a good thing._

_ Second, I was still alive. Though my head hurt terribly, I counted that as a good thing, too._

_ Third, Mom and Jack were not moving, which sprung me into action. Unbuckling myself with uncoordinated movements, I lurched forward towards my brother who was seated in front of me, and thus, closest. There was a steadily bleeding gash on the left side of his forehead that made my gut wrench. "Jack," I called weakly to him, but he didn't respond. I checked for signs of life, my heart skipping beats as I placed my shaking fingers to his neck._

_ No pulse._

_ Tears were already beginning to fall as I kept searching for a shimmer of hope. Each time, I came up empty. "Jack! Jack, wake up!" I cried in his ear, shaking his shoulder. But then I remembered Mom. It wasn't that I had forgotten her; it was just that I could only inspect one person at a time._

_ Her body was jerking slightly, which kept me hopeful. It was obvious she was alive._

_ A grotesque growl erupted from beside her, where her driver-side door once was and had since been torn clean off the hinges._

_ "Mom?"_

_ But the noise was not Mom. It wasn't even human, really, but I was delirious and groggy and could have just as easily been imagining it._

_ With drunken fingers, I reached around her neck in search of a heartbeat, just to prove that she was alive. As I did so, an ugly head emerged from where I had imagined the snarl. Only I hadn't imagined it; it had been very real._

_ And the head was just as real, just as frightening as the growl._

"Walker," Daryl breathed as he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Marlie.

"Yes," she replied, emotionless.

_ I had never seen something so terrifying in my life. There wasn't a whole lot I could do besides scream._

_ That's exactly what I did. I shrieked and cried because there was blood and skin hanging out of the monster's mouth. It looked human in the most basic sense—two ears, two eyes, a nose, and mouth—but each feature was distorted and hideous._

_ Its eyes were bloodshot and empty. There was a deep cut that ran down its right cheek, which wasn't bleeding, but was circled with rotting, green flesh. And its face...its face was pale and sunken in, like the eyes. The nose was bent at an odd angle and there were no lips to go with the mouth. Just a set of jaws with teeth bared. This creature, this once-human, was now more of a smelly walking skeleton than anything else._

_ And it was eating my mother, gargling and moaning as it dove back into her side to feast upon her exposed organs._

_ She was inside out._

_ For a while, I sat in the backseat, my back pressed firmly against my dented door and shattered window. I shook and trembled and cried silently in fear of disturbing the rabid-looking thing, which seemed pretty content and occupied already._

_ It didn't so much as make a move towards me or my dead brother. All it wanted, apparently, was the woman in the front seat._

_ My mind remained blackened and scared until I recognized a familiar device pressing against my ass. I reached behind me, keeping as quiet as possible, and found my cell phone. My fingers barely worked, although I was finally able to dial 9-1-1. "Help," was all my voice would say, and I left the phone on beside me for the dispatcher to trace._

_ I don't remember much after that. It seemed like an eternity passed until I finally heard sirens approaching, but when they finally arrived, I was numb to everything._

_ Later that night, at the hospital, the nurse told me that the EMTs had found me curled up in the backseat, shaking and crying, babbling about a monster attack._

_ She said no monster was found at the scene, but I could see in her fake smile—you know, the kind where your lips grin, but your eyes don't?—that she was lying right through her teeth._

_ In my drowsy state, it was the only proof that I hadn't imagine the damned creature. That nurse's false grin._

_ When I woke up, memories and flashing images flooded my brain and there was a scream in my ears. My own, I figured out as nurses hurriedly entered the hospital room._

_ They finally settled me down and left, giving me space to recall what had happened two days before. There were pieces missing from that night, like pages torn from a book, but I remembered enough to know that I wasn't crazy. That I really had seen something eat Mom. I also remember vomiting each time I told myself that the two greatest people in my world were dead._

_ I didn't want to live. I refused to live._

_ The hospital room's television set was on the nightly news channel and a male reporter was telling his viewers about a virus that was giving people fevers. Anyone figured to be infected was to seek out medical attention immediately._

_ With my goal in mind, I climbed off the scratchy white bed, feeling ground beneath my feet for the first time in forty-eight hours. The tiles were cold and I flinched against the contact. I could feel the tug of stitches in my right shoulder and temple and I winced against the bruising on my collarbone and cheek. But I was numb to it all as I slowly made my way to the stainless steel drawers positioned against the wall, near the heart monitor and IV pole._

_ I never knew why the doctor's didn't lock up their sharp utensils, although I was grateful that they didn't. I had never been so happy to see a scalpel in my life. The cold metal warmed quickly in my sweating left palm as I crawled back into bed, scrunching myself into a tight ball. My heart raced; it wasn't everyday that you decide you're going to kill yourself and a part of me still wanted to live. Instinct, I guess. The natural drive to survive. But I crushed that part inside, stomped on it until the flicker of hope was extinguished like Mom and Jack's lives had been._

_ Destroyed the moment the blade pierced the tender skin on my wrist. I've read that in order to lose blood quickly, the slit should travel up the arm. It's not like I normally research suicide, but on particularly sad and lonely days, I'd let my mind wonder._

_ The blade was incredibly sharp and thin and I barely felt the cut that followed. Hot blood instantly emerged and flowed over my wrist, down my palm, staining the white sheets crimson. I wanted to cry, but my tear ducts were completely empty._

_ With a weakened right hand, I took the blade and dug it into my left wrist, shaking slightly. The second cut was a little sloppy, but it was deep and bleeding well. The scalpel fell from my grasp and clattered to the cold floor. All the while, I waited. Curled up like a sick cat, I waited and asked for forgiveness from any god who bothered listening._

_ I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid; I had never been so scared in my life. After all, I was about to die. Die, dead, gone. My head began to swim, my heart beat rapidly, my breathing quickened. There was sweat on my brows as I looked out the window to the dark world beyond. Thinking back to the car accident, to the impossible humanoid creature, to the pale, dead faces of my family, I remembered why I was doing what I was doing._

_ The heart monitor behind me rang out and then there were voices in the dark behind my eyelids. Panicked, barking orders given by ghosts that were suddenly haunting my room. They weren't ghosts, I soon realized as I was rolled over by some invisible forces. My lids were forcefully opened and a bright light shined into them, blinding me._

_ Soon, there was only blackness._

_ It was another two days before I was conscious again. A blood transfusion later and I was alive again. It sucked at first, until I took it as a second chance. Another chance to start again. _

"Little did I know, the world was ending right outside my hospital window," Marlie finished sarcastically. "And there where a dozen infected people turning into walkers just down the hall."

Daryl didn't say anything. He just sat there in the dark of the rec room.

It made Marlie uncomfortable. Was there nothing to be said? Was her crime _that_ terrible? "Say something," she said quietly.

But he remained silent.

"What else was there to do?"

"Survive, Marlie. Just like everybody else."

Marlie flinched at his snappy voice. "I had nothing left."

"You think you're the only one who lost someone? There's always something. _Always_."

"_Like what?_" she begged, hardly caring that there were tears making their way down her face.

Daryl stood up then and searched the side table near the couch for a lamp. Yellow light flooded the room a moment later and his stiff expression was revealed.

Momentarily blinded, Marlie shied away and waited for her vision to adjust and her migraine to settle down. Then her sad eyes met Daryl's.

"Like humanity!"

She was taken aback.

"Did you ever think of that?"

"I didn't…I had no idea that the dead would start walking. I didn't know the human race was going to become an endangered species, Daryl. Fuck, you think I can tell the future?"

He scoffed and turned away.

"No, you don't get to do that. Just because you chose life doesn't mean you're better than those who chose death."

"Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

Marlie got to her feet and laughed humorlessly. "Oh, really? Did you read that on a t-shirt? The last time I checked, dead means dead. So when my mother and brother were killed, it's a given that that sort of thing will stick with you forever. I wasn't dealing with a _temporary problem_. There's nothing _temporary_ about it, Daryl." She pointed a finger at the hunter, furrowing her brows in anger. "I made a choice."

"A shitty one, if you ask me."

"I wasn't asking you," she growled. "You aren't getting it, are you?"

Daryl eyed her unhappily.

"I tried to kill myself, but I failed. I failed and lived." Marlie took a small step towards the man, who didn't retreat or budge. "I was saved and I made the best out of my second chance. I've been doing exactly what you said—surviving and doing what I can with what I have."

"But the fact is, you wanted to die."

"So what? A lot of people took the easy way out. Jenner has firsthand experience on that." She sighed and shook her head. "But I regret doing what I did. It was a mistake and I'm glad I made it out. Why do you think I cover these up?" Marlie asked, turning her wrists upwards for Daryl to get a good look.

He eyed them wearily before returning his gaze back to the young woman.

"I don't want everyone seeing my mistakes. It's bad enough that I have to." Lowering her head, she crossed her arms to hide the pink scars. Marlie suddenly felt very naked with just her men's tee to cover her body and sought out the location of her panties, which happened to be shoved halfway beneath the couch.

Daryl was quiet for a long time, thinking about what Marlie had said and imagining how she must be feeling. He didn't have a family, either; his brother was the only one left and god only knew where he was. But this young woman had gone through more hell than him. Perhaps suicide had been the better option back then. What about now, though?

"If you could do it again, kill yourself, I mean…would you?" His voice was calm and questioning, like Marlie's very answer would make or break him.

Her response came swiftly. "No. Never. Not with all that I have now." Her blue eyes lit up a little. "Friends, safety, you."

Daryl smirked. "And I ain't considered friends or safety?" he asked facetiously.

Marlie knew he was joking. "You're your own category entirely," the woman replied in a melancholy tone. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him just then, to ask for forgiveness for trying to extinguish her own life—and almost succeeding. But most importantly, she wanted her family back.

"Is that a good thing?"

She nodded, tears choking her voice. "You remind me everyday why I need to keep going." Maybe it was the hangover, or maybe it was just the sudden memory of the accident that made her legs shake.

Whatever it was, Daryl saw her unsteadiness and hurried forward, pulling Marlie into his protective embrace and keeping her from toppling.

They sat down on the comfortable couch, where Daryl rocked her slowly, and he whispered into her ear, "You're not the only one who's been saved."

She sniffled and smiled.

"But the ticklin'," he added. "God, could you at least warn me next time?"

Marlie laughed out loud, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She was grateful for Daryl's humor. "I guess, as long as you remember the condoms next time."

"Sure thing, miss. I'll go shopping the first chance I get."

Giggling, Marlie sat up and placed a pleasant kiss on Daryl's cheek.

He sighed in return.

There was a knocking on the door a short time later. Rick's voice sounded on the other side. "Hey, love birds," he called tiredly. There was no doubt that he, too, was hungover. "Jenner's got somethin' to show us, so come on out. Meet us in the room with the computers, alright? Do remember where that is?"

"We got it," assured Daryl.

Marlie waited for the footsteps to disappear down the hall before she stood and stretched, followed closely by Daryl, whose hands found their way to the woman's hips. She laughed and let him kiss her. "I gotta go find my gloves."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of those," he said, indicating the scars.

"But I am. They're a mistake. Maybe I'll suck it up eventually, but right now, keep it a secret, will you?"

Daryl nodded. "Will do."

She nodded appreciatively before preparing to meet the others and Jenner.

* * *

><p>This one took me the longest. Not necessarily from the length, but from the thought I had to put in it. Lots of info that had to be carefully thought about. Now, onward to the next chapter that will finish off Season One! Finally!<p> 


	12. Fire

Season finale chapter! And it's a long one, just letting y'all know. I'm so sorry for the delay, but I was busy all Thanksgiving, hanging out with my people and whatnot. How was everyone else's holiday? Hopefully good! Anyway, I've been working on this chapter for the better part of a day and I'm so glad that it's finished, as I'm sure many of you are, as well! Be sure to read the bottom footnotes for info on what I'm doing next. Read on!

DISCLAIMER: _The Walking Dead_ doesn't belong to be, as depressed as that little fact makes me. :(

* * *

><p><em>Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse<em>

Chapter Nine: Fire

"I can't believe we missed breakfast," Marlie grumbled sleepily. It was bad enough that she and Daryl couldn't find her black gloves anywhere, but now they had to go hungry while Jenner showed everyone his science experiment. Mentally, Marlie prayed that he'd have good news or something to make the day a little better.

"No one's seen the gloves, either," Daryl commented quietly beside her in the massive computer room.

"Great."

Rick came up behind them. "I thought about tellin' y'all it was breakfast, but I didn't wanna wake you up."

Breezing past, Andrea snorted snottily. "Oh, I don't think they were sleepin'."

Marlie eyed the hunter beside her, her cheeks burning and already turning red.

"Well, you still coulda got us up to eat." Daryl crossed his arms, yawning. There was dull thudding behind his eyeballs where the most painful part of the hangover was. So far, his day was turning out to be as fantastic as Marlie's, which was far from a good thing.

Sighing, she nudged Daryl as her stomach growled. "We've been hungrier."

"Doesn't matter."

Marlie smirked. Last night had been the greatest night since the world had fallen apart. Wine, a couch, Daryl. It couldn't have gotten any better than that. Granted, Marlie had never planned on spilling the secret behind her gloves, but now that she had, it was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It felt good.

But now she couldn't seem to find the gloves that would protect her secret from everyone else. Casually, her hands rested within her pullover's pockets. Jenner had given it to her, along with the grey men's shirt from the night before. Now she was comfortably warm in the hoody, her washed and sweat-free camo tank, and her jeans, which had since been cleaned as well. Still, she felt entirely naked without the gloves.

Daryl glanced down at her. "We'll find 'em. It ain't like they just ran off."

"No," said Lori from behind them. "If it's these you're looking for, then they certainly didn't run off."

Marlie smiled when the older woman held up a pair of cleaned leather, fingerless gloves.

"I found them this morning in the bathroom. Thought you might like 'em back."

"Thank you," Marlie praised quietly, taking them with her wrists facing downward.

It was obvious by Lori's expression and reluctance to give up the gloves that she knew Marlie was hiding something. Even the way she eyed Marlie questioningly hinted at it.

"Told ya we'd find 'em," whispered Daryl as he watched the young woman wriggle into the gloves quickly before pushing her hands back into her pockets.

Jenner spoke up then. "Give me playback of TS-19," the man ordered to Vi, typing swiftly into one computer's keyboard.

Everyone gathered around and watched the large screen ahead as images of a person's brain appeared on it.

"Few people ever got to see this," Jenner continued, his hands on his hips as he addressed the group.

"Is that a brain?" asked Carl curiously.

Jenner smirked. "An extraordinary one, not that it matters in the end," he added more solemnly. "Enhanced view, please, Vi."

"Enhanced internal view," confirmed the AI as it delved into the screen's image until everyone was looking at a profile view of someone's brain.

With piqued interest, Marlie took a few steps closer to the big display, her attention no longer focused on her empty stomach. Daryl followed at her heels, much to Rick and Dale's amusement.

The two men switched curious glances at the sight of the hunter trailing behind Marlie, as opposed to the other way around like it had been back at camp.

"It's beautiful," Marlie commented aloud. It reminded her of the astronomy observatory back in Detroit that she visited often with her dad years ago. She had always loved looking at the stars back then. Not anymore, though. Too many wishes and could-have-been's.

"Yes, it is," agreed Jenner.

The image on screen traveled deep into the brain, revealing crisscrossed lines and flashing lights.

Shane cocked his head. "What are those?"

"It's a person's life," replied Jenner. "Memories, experiences. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring and ripples of light, is you."

Having zero clues about what he was talking about, Daryl asked sarcastically, "You don't make sense? Ever?"

"They're synapses," Marlie informed him.

"That's right," said Jenner, a little surprised that someone else knew what the little lights were. "Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything the body does from the moment of birth all the way until death."

Rick frowned. "Death? Is that what this is? A vigil?"

"Yes," the other man replied. "Or more like the playback of the vigil."

"This person died?" Marlie wondered, leaning against one of the computers.

"Who?" finished Andrea.

Something that had long ago fallen to pieces within Jenner shook him now. A sad expression flitted across his face. "Test subject nineteen. Someone who was bitten and infected and someone who volunteered for the process."

Marlie wondered who would have volunteered for such a study, but then again, once the person was bit, he or she must have known that nothing would cure them. If it would save lives, then I'd do it, too, Marlie mused.

Jenner sighed. "Vi, show playback of first event."

"Playback of first event," confirmed the female computer as she revealed a visual of the same brain, but with black tendrils creeping up the brain stem.

Glenn cringed. "What is that?"

"It invades the brain like meningitis," Jenner said, pointing up towards the screen. "The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shut down, followed by the organs."

The test subject was beginning to convulse on the screen. It continued to for several seconds before the flashing lights in the brain ceased. Everything went dark and the thrashing stopped.

Jenner lowered his head before he finished. "Then death. Everything you were or ever will be…gone."

Without being able to help it, several tears fell from Marlie's blue eyes. Her mom and brother may not have been turned into walkers, they may not have had the same symptoms of the test subject, but they had died still. The lights inside their brains had switched off and they had died. Everything they had ever been, each memory and experience, had been deleted.

Daryl could see her struggling. Deciding not to care about what the others thought about the couple, he wrapped his arm around Marlie's shoulder and brought her close to him.

It was his warmth that comforted Marlie the most, in the end. The feeling of another living human pressed up against her. She caught sight of Andrea, who was also broken up inside at the loss of her little sister. It was hard for everyone who had lost someone.

"Is that what happened to Jim?"

Carol blinked at her daughter's innocent question. She nodded, reaching down to grab Sophia's hand.

With a sniffle, Andrea looked away from the front screen and sighed.

"She lost someone recently. Her sister," informed Lori when Jenner noticed the saddened expression of the blonde woman.

Jenner nodded. "I lost somebody, too. I understand how devastating it is."

Marlie remembered the first time she had heard that statement. It was back when she had been just a little girl, no older than Sophia or Carl. Willow, Marlie's orange kitten that her mom had adopted just a few weeks before, had managed to escape through the front door one morning. Marlie chased after the young feline, down the driveway and across the street. It found itself in a neighbor's yard, a neighbor with a dog.

In horror, Marlie watched as Willow stupidly squeezed through the metal fence into the backyard. The black lab, Gunther, caught a whiff of the cat and bolted across the grass quicker than Marlie could blink. It was over before it even began.

A long, heart-felt apology from Gunther's owner ensued later on after Marlie had alerted her mother to the situation.

"I lost a cat, too," the neighbor had said. "Clive was his name. Good cat. Got hit by a car last year, though. It was hard, so I know what you're going through."

It hadn't helped Marlie in the least and back then, when she was young and naïve, she didn't believe anyone could know what she was going through. No one could have ever loved something as much as she had loved Willow. But as Marlie grew older, she learned that she wasn't the only one who was the victim of bad shit. Other people experienced losses, too.

Andrea was now without a sister. Marlie without a mom and brother. Daryl's own brother was out there somewhere, possible dead. All around, there was death and heavy hearts.

When Jenner said how he understood the devastation of losing someone, Marlie knew that it was the truth.

"Vi," Jenner said sternly, "Scan ahead to second event."

"Scanning to second event," she confirmed in monotone.

The monitor fast-forwarded, scrolling blips of information and numbers along one side of the screen. And then an interesting thing happened.

Marlie watched as a flicker of red light emerged at the base of the brain. "It restarts the brain?" she asked in a surprised voice.

"No, just the brain stem," Jenner corrected. "It gets them up and moving."

"But they're not alive." Rick chimed out.

Jenner eyed him. "You tell me."

"They can't be," asserted Marlie.

"It depends what you think 'alive' actually means. The neocortex, the part of the brain that makes you who you are, is dead. But the basic functions come back."

"Like walkin' and eatin'," Daryl guessed, still holding onto Marlie beside him.

Jenner nodded. He turned back to the screen and flinched slightly when something tore through the image of the brain, like a knife through butter.

"What the hell was that?" the hunter asked, concerned.

Blinking, Andrea understood completely what she had just seen. "He just shot his patient through the head." She averted her eyes. "Didn't you?"

Daryl scoffed, squeezing Marlie's shoulder. "Damn well hope so."

A moment later, the scientist shut off the screen and turned his attention to everybody else in the room. There was a sad look on his face, one filled with unknowing and as many questions as everyone else had on their minds then.

"You have no idea what it is." Lori took a step forward, saying what they were all thinking.

Jenner shook his head. "Could be microbial, parasitic, fungal."

"Or the wrath of god," asserted Jacqui from the other side of the room.

"Could be."

Marlie ducked under Daryl's arm on her shoulder to come up on his other side. Her hand went to his back as she asked, "Somebody has to know what this thing is." She met eyes with each person there. "Right? What about the other CDCs? Are there any left?"

"There might be other facilities," Jenner agreed hesitantly. "People like me."

"But how could you not know?" Rick approached, pointing a finger at Jenner impatiently. He wanted answers just as much as the rest of the group.

Jenner stepped back. "I'm cut off. Communications stopped about a month ago."

There was a silence in the room that could have suffocated an elephant.

"I've been alone for that long."

Marlie looked up at Daryl worriedly. Already, she could see where this conversation was going and it wasn't going well.

"So it's not just here?" asked Andrea, a hateful look in her eyes. "You mean there's nothing anywhere? That's what you're really saying, right?"

There was another deadly silence, but it was an answer no less.

Daryl shook his and stepped back from Marlie, walking passed her briskly in an effort to stretch his legs and walk off some of the emotions he was feeling. "Imma get shit-face drunk…again."

"Count me in," Marlie whispered as she ran her hands through her hair, sighing.

"Not me." Glenn put on a disgusted face to go along with his extensive hangover expression. He could never drink again and it would be too soon.

Daryl waved him off. "Pussy."

In an attempt to change the subject, Dale walked passed everyone and pointed up at a large, wall-mounted display that had numbers across it. "I know this is taxing and I hate to have to ask you one more question, Jenner, but I can't help noticing that that clock has been counting down this whole time."

Everyone turned their attention to the red-numbered countdown, curiosity and nervousness tainting the gleam in their eyes.

"What happens at zero?" Dale asked.

Jenner hesitated. "The generators…they run out."

"Then what?" Rick asked. When he received no response, he asked Vi. "Vi, what happens when the generators run out?"

Immediately, the computer replied, "Facility-wide decontamination will occur."

Marlie gulped.

TWDTWDTWD

"Any ideas?" Daryl asked Marlie, watching her load a backpack hastily.

"On what?"

He placed a hand on her arm to pause her for a moment. "On the decontamination thing?"

She shook her head. "I…I've read books, seen on TV...There's a few things that could happen."

Daryl didn't have to say anything; the look on his face was enough for Marlie to go on.

"Some facilities go on lock-down and no one's allowed in or out. Everything's cut off—food, water, everything. Other places, they gas the building and suffocate anything inside. And sometimes…"

Daryl blinked. "Sometimes what? Marlie, tell me. Sometimes what?"

Sighing, she finished. "Some facilities release large quantities of flammable

gas into the atmosphere and they…they set the air on fire. But I don't know what's gonna happen. Maybe nothing at all."

Daryl rubbed the bridge of his nose and grabbed the half-full of bottle of wine off the floor. There was no way in hell that he was dying at a rundown CDC building. He wanted to live, not get blown up or whatever decontamination meant. "You finished?" he asked, meaning the packing.

Marlie nodded, throwing her filled pack onto her shoulder.

"Why you packin' up, anyway?"

"If Jenner can't stop the decontamination, then I certainly don't wanna be around when the clock hits zero."

He thought about that for a moment before nodding. He wondered if he should get packing as well, but then decided to hold off. "Alright, we'll figure out what's goin' on when we talk to Jenner."

She nodded then and let Daryl follow her out of the rec room where their belongings were. The lights went out a moment later, stopping them in their tracks.

"Woah, woah," Daryl whispered, placing a protective hand on the young woman's shoulder.

Vi came on over the coms then, saying, "Emergency lighting, on."

And then there was light! But only in the hallway.

Daryl peeked his head out of the dark rec room, just in time as Jenner was walking down. "What's with the lights?"

"And the air?" wondered Lori.

"Energy use is being prioritized. This zone is shutting itself down." He snatched Daryl's wine bottle clean from his hands as he passed.

"Well what the hell does that mean?" the hunter asked, his tone angrier now that his wine had been taken. To make it worse, Jenner didn't reply to his question.

He and Marlie and everyone else all followed the scientist down the various corridors in hopes of getting an answer.

"Hey!" Daryl shouted. "I'm talkin' to you! How can a buildin' shut itself down?"

"You'd be surprised," Jenner replied simply as he entered the open computer room that they all had been in about thirty minutes before. He took a heavy swig of the alcohol before handing it off to Daryl, who yanked it away aggressively.

He offered it to Marlie who graciously took down a mouthful.

"It was the French," Jenner said suddenly.

Marlie swallowed hard. "Huh?"

"The French, I think, were the last ones to hold out. While everyone over here was committing suicide, they stayed running. Until…"

Rick stepped forward. "Until what?"

"Until they ran out of fuel."

No one dared breathe as Jenner's meaning hit him. "Shit," Marlie whispered.

"Everyone," shouted Rick, "everyone get your stuff. We're leaving!"

Suddenly, Marlie was glad that she had packed prematurely, but she followed after Daryl anyway to help him with his own things. They all stopped when the facility's alarm began to sound.

Shane ignored the alarm. "You heard Rick!" he exclaimed. "Get your stuff! We're gettin' outta here!"

But before anyone could make it out into the hallways, solid metal doors rose up from the exits and closed with a _bang_.

Rick slapped it angrily. "Open the doors, Jenner!"

"You open them up, you son of a bitch!" cried Daryl as he rushed the man, holding the wine bottle above his head.

"Daryl!" Marlie screamed as Shane slammed against the hunter, backing him away from the scientist. She yanked the wine bottle from his hands, took the last drink and threw it at the wall closest to them.

The act and ensuing glass spray surprised and silenced everyone.

It wasn't like Marlie to be violent, but at that moment, her mind had become tense and emotional and throwing something was the only release she had. Running her fingers through her soft curls, Marlie sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning cross-legged against one of the room's many desks.

Daryl shook off Shane's hands that were gripping his arm and pushing on his chest. He kneeled down beside Marlie and eyed Jenner.

Heart racing, Rick ordered the scientist to open the doors.

"There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

Dale looked on, wide-eyed. "Well open the damn things."

"I can't. The computers control them. I told you, once those doors up there closed, they weren't opening again. I _told you_."

"Maybe you should have explained a little better before you locked the fucking door," Marlie said harshly.

"It's better this way."

"_How!_" exclaimed Rick. "How is this better? What happens when the time's up? _What happens!_"

Jenner rose from his chair in a huff. "Do you know what this place is?" he exclaimed. "We protected the public from _very nasty stuff!_ Weaponized smallpox and ebola, stuff you don't want getting out, EVER!" The man breathed heavily, eyeing every person in the room. When he took his seat again, he continued. "In the event of a cataclysmic power failure, HITs are deployed to prevent anything from getting out."

Rick gulped. "HITs?"

"Vi, define."

"Hyapulse, thermaberic fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between five-thousand six-thousand where the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

Marlie closed her eyes tightly as she drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. She hated being right.

Daryl scooted in front of her then and cupped her cheeks in his hands.

There was a sadness in the room thanks to Vi's words, a sadness that made the children cry and the rest to fall apart in their own ways.

"Sets the air on fire," finished Jenner quietly, more as a reminder to himself than anything. "An end to sorrow, grief, regret, everything."

"I don't care what it's an end to," Daryl growled, standing up and backing away towards the closed exit. "Open the damn door!"

Meanwhile, Shane found an axe leaned against a desk and began his work on the door, which was unaffected by Shane's attack.

Marlie stared at nothing, only hearing the men's grunts and shouts as they tried to get out, to save everyone.

Sophia and Carl were crying with Carol and Lori, and Jenner was talking quietly to Andrea and Jacqui. There was nothing anymore. Nothing.

Everyone had been so happy to find a safe haven where there was food and wine and warmth. There were beds and couches to sleep on and silly stories to be told during meals. But that was all over as soon as it had begun.

Marlie had fallen in love with a man that everyone else seemed to have zero tolerance for and she didn't care. She didn't care that the world was over and that her life before was dead and gone. All that mattered now was that someone had fallen for her, too. Someone who didn't give a rat's ass that she had attempted suicide or that she was somewhat shy and passive. Daryl loved her for who she was.

And now they were all about to die. Jenner thought of it as a good thing. After all, the death would be swift and painless, unlike a death at the hands of walkers. But it wasn't his decision to make.

Shane was about to make that clear. Hurrying over to Jenner, the officer cocked the gun that had replaced his axe and put it in the scientist's face. "Open that door or I'll blow you're head off." The look in his rabid eyes said he'd definitely do it.

"Brother, this is not the way you do this," Rick said, trying to calm him down. "If you kill him, we'll have no chance of gettin' out of here."

A tense minute of thinking passed before Shane let out a wild roar and fired the gun once the long muzzle pointed away from Jenner. He shot at several computer monitors, sending yellow sparks and smoke across the room.

Again, Rick intervened. He tugged hard on Shane's gun and when it wasn't released, he butted his elbow into the other man's chest.

Shane fell the to ground and looked up at Rick.

"Are we done?"

Scoffing, Shane said, "Guess we all are."

All eyes were on Rick as he handed the gun off to T-Dog. Then he turned to Jenner. "I think you're lying, about there being no hope."

Jenner shook his head, confused.

"I think you're lying because you didn't take the easy way out. You stuck around."

"That doesn't matter."

"It _always _matters," Rick corrected. "You stayed when others ran."

Marlie frowned at the conversation taking place. It put a bad feeling in the pit of her empty stomach. So she focused her attention on Daryl, who had left her side to attack the door with his own axe.

"Why?" asked Rick. "Why did you stay?"

"It wasn't because I wanted to. I made a promise to…my wife," he said, pointing to the front black screen.

Marlie stood up then. "The test subject was your wife."

Nodding, Jenner continued. "She volunteered after she was bit. She begged me to keep going no matter what. It should have been me on that table. My wife, she was in charge of this place, not me. I was just…Edwin Jenner. She could have done something about this, not me."

Rick could only imagine how difficult it must have been for Jenner, having to use his own wife as a test subject. But a lot of people were dead; it was the living who mattered now. "Your wife didn't have a choice, but we do. All we want is…we want a chance." He pressed his lips together tightly. "A chance to not have your our people die in vein. A chance to find a way outta this."

"Let us keep tryin' as long as we can," pleaded Lori, holding Carl close to her. "Please."

Jenner stood motionless, his mind on full-throttle as in inner battle raged. He made a decision a moment later. "I told you, topside's lock down. You'll have to find your own way out," he said as he made his way over to a keypad on one of the desks. He punched several buttons as the group watched on, not sure what was about to happen.

The doors slid down once the last button was pressed.

"Lets go!" cried Daryl, dropping his axe and hurrying over to Marlie. He helped her to her feet and booked it out with the others.

Rick was taking his sweet old time chatting with Jenner and was rushed along by a panicking Glenn.

Meanwhile, T-Dog hurried Jacqui along until she pushed off him. "I'm not going," the petite woman said calmly.

"That's insane!" cried T-Dog.

"No, it's perfectly sane! I don't wanna go like Jim and Amy."

Marlie paused. She had newfound respect for Jacqui. It would be hard for anyone to stay behind, to call it quits. But it wasn't really quitting. At least, Marlie didn't think so. It was simply deciding to put an end to the hurt and sadness, which was why Marlie respected Andrea's decision, as well.

"Andrea, no!" Dale objected. "Everyone, just go!" he said to everyone else, who all hurried off towards the elevator that would take them up to the world.

Marlie didn't want to leave Dale behind—the group would be nothing without him—but Daryl took her arm and refused to let go.

"I'll put you over my shoulder again," he snapped.

Marlie growled, but ran off with him. When they finally made it to the ground level, Marlie was relieved to see that the sun had not burned out or something while they had been underground. But there was no time to bask in the daylight, because yet another problem stood in their way.

"The glass won't break!" shouted Shane, obviously pissed beyond belief as he fired a shotgun round into the indestructible window.

"I've got something that might work," chirped Carol, digging in her bag.

Daryl scoffed. "I don't think a nail file's gonna work."

She ignored him and revealed a grenade to Rick, surprising everyone.

"Nice job," applauded Marlie sincerely, congratulating Carol on possibly saving the day before hurrying back from the window.

"Hit the deck!" Shane exclaimed as his friend pulled the pin and booked it towards the others.

The explosion picked the man off his feet and he landed with a _thud_ beside Marlie, who smiled at him before helping him to his feet once the blast had ended. "It worked," she said hopefully as she looked at the devastated window.

Then the fun began. Facetious fun, of course. There was nothing enjoyable about sprinting crossing an expanse of dead military personnel with walkers closing in.

Daryl covered Marlie's six as she ran ahead. He used his crossbow as a bludgeoning device while his lady friend cut at the throats of any geek that crossed her path.

She jumped into his truck once the way was clear and anxiously looked at the CDC's broken window. When Daryl tossed his bow on the seat and started up the engine, she begged, "Just wait. Wait for them."

He had no plans of sticking around, but felt relief wash over him when two people emerged from the building.

"He did it!" Marlie cheered, bouncing excitedly in her seat. "He brought them back!"

"I only see Andrea."

Looking closely, Marlie realized that the hunter was right. Only Dale and Andrea emerged.

Up ahead, the RV was honking wildly at the two stragglers. They were almost there when the air inside the building combusted. It sounded like some kind of animal, growling and hungry as the fire consumed everything.

"Get down!" urged Daryl, covering Marlie with his own body as the building exploded.

The ensuing shockwaves shook the caravan and rattled the trees outside. Marlie could feel the heat from inside the truck and breathed heavily when Daryl released her. They watched as the CDC crumbled with Jacqui and Jenner inside.

"They made it," Marlie said quietly, watching Dale and Andrea rise and hurry into the RV. She turned her blue gaze to Daryl's and smiled, her heartbeat finally slowing to a more normal pace. Her lips were on his in an instant, his face held between her hands.

When they finally released each other, Daryl smiled sheepishly and shifted the truck into "drive". He could get used to regularly kissing the woman beside him. "Fort Benning, here we come," he announced, grabbing Marlie's hand from her lap to hold in his own.

She stuck her free hand out the window and sighed. One-hundred and twenty-five miles of walker country awaited them, one hell of a trip for most. Squeezing Daryl's warm hand, Marlie smiled. It was worth it. Everything she had done and everything she would do would be worth as long as she was beside the hunter in the truck. Suddenly, life was a commodity that Marlie would not deprive herself of again. Not with the hard-ass seated next her.

A hard-ass with a heart, she mused as she eyed the deserted road ahead. Sighing solemnly, Marlie wondered with little hope of it being it true, "I hope Fort Benning has booze."

Daryl's laugh lifted her spirits.

* * *

><p>And that's a wrap! For season one, at least. I'm not done writing, though, so nobody panic! What I'm going to do for season two, and probably for the seasons that will certainly follow, I'm going to start a whole new story instead of posting up more chapters in this one. The story, story title, characters, etc will all be the same. I'm just splitting season one and two so they're not all in one set of chapters. See what I'm saying?<p>

I don't have any season two chapters ready yet, but I will before the week is out. If any of you have any questions about what's happening, just message me or comment about it. I hope you all enjoyed season one, both for the show _and_ my fic. Comment, comment, comment please! Love you guys and look for another story by me for season two! :D


	13. IMPORTANT!

Hello, everyone!

And so begins the new season of _The Walking Dead!_ Season two will be under a whole new story, as opposed to just adding on chapters in this one. _Necessary Things to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse_ is the new story's title, and I already have an intro chapter put up! Another chapter will be up before the day is done. So look for the new story, comment, favorite, do your thang! I look forward to beginning anew with everyone! :)

Z

*EDIT*

The new story's title is actually _Necessary Knowledge_, instead of _Necessary Things_, which didn't sound right. Okay, time to go write some more!


End file.
